Underneath
A Tale from a Year in the Life of a Vine
Copyright 2021, Zachary Zundel
There is so much more of me than the pretty bits that you can see.
You walk with me, caress me. The perfect and pristine. Unnaturally clean and carefully preened.
A manicured mask that hides my willfulness. My wildness.
Would you feel the same, if my vines ran free? What use would you then have for me?
The cautious canopy you keep, balanced for my fruits you seek.
Would you still care for the grapes I bear, less perfect, but still sweet, if I grew free? Still me?
There is so much more to me than the pretty bits you want and need.
Underneath, a place you cannot go, where most of me resides and thrives and grows. The biggest part of me, that nourishes and feeds, the pretty parts you see.
But those pieces, the green pieces, the pleasant pieces. They can all be cut away, and rearranged, and still I remain.
Because the best parts of me, the real parts of me, the inner parts of me, are the parts you cannot see.
