Abbaye de St-Vivant
A new poem by Judy O’Kane.
My hand must have slipped
and the images showed the earth spinning,
the electric light a full moon.
I got to my knees
to get the ground into the frame
as the winemakers prepared to sing
for the last time. I might
have been paying homage
to the Cistercians, to the terroir,
to everyone singing into the stones.
The walls echoed, a call and response.
It was an exchange of vows
witnessed within the abbey walls.
It was matins and vespers,
all of the hours;
it was an offering, a form of grace,
all of us honoring
the work of those who went before us.
Aubert de Villaine poured wines
from the vineyards at St-Vivant
and we waited, like communicants.