‘Twas an Emeritus Holiday, when all through the farm
Not a snowflake was falling in the California warm;
.
The furniture was placed ‘round the patio with care,
In hopes that new wine tasters soon would be there;
.
The 2019s were nestled all snug in their places;
Their aging in bottles was off to the races;
.
And Mari in her office, and Dave in his cellar,
Knew 2020 vintages would all be best sellers,
.
When out on the ranch there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the tasting room to see what was the matter.
.
To the accordion windows I flew like a flash,
Pushing them open with dramatic panache.
.
The moon shone down on bare vines and old canes,
Which reached out to clutter the narrow vineyard lanes,
.
And what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a green John Deere tractor and eight tiny rein-deer,
.
With a wise old driver so proud of his work,
I knew in a moment that it had to be Kirk.
.
More rapid than veraison his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
.
“Now, Hyde! now, Elite! now Eight-Two-Eight and One-Fifteen!
On, Six-Six-Seven! on, Cruz! on, Clone Four and Clone Five! let’s work as a team!
.
To the top of Block D! to the top of the winery!
Now dash away! dash away! over this finery!”
.
As grape leaves that before the coast’s breezes fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
.
So over the vine-tops the coursers they flew
With the sleigh full of wines, and Mr. Lokka too—
.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
.
As I went back inside and began polishing glasses,
In through the barrel room Kirk came, boots tracking in grasses.
.
He was dressed in worn overalls and an Emeritus cap,
Fresh from visiting Pinot Hill near the Petaluma Gap;
.
A bundle of pruned canes he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
.
His eyes—how they snapped! his dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
.
His mouth was pursed after all of his toil,
And his beard the color of Goldridge soil;
.
The stump of a pipe was not to be seen in his teeth,
For farming is hard with smoke ‘round one’s head like a wreath;
.
He had a broad face and dry sense of humor,
As dry as our farming that we explain to consumers.
.
He was sharp and paid attention, and could be quick with corrections,
So I minded my polishing, as I needed no directions;
.
A wink of his eye and a tilt of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And decked all our halls with grape canes and a bit of a smirk.
.
And laying his finger aside of his chin,
And giving a nod, tromped off with a din;
.
He returned to his tractor, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all grew like the down of a thistle.
.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight—
“Emeritus for all, and to all a good night!”
