The Workers in the Vineyard

The Workers in the Vineyard

Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you?

Matthew 20:14

I waited for my cousin.

The others were still coming in, shirts off,

dirt, juice, and sweat painting their faces.

I was tired.

Not from working,

shit, I'd only started an hour ago,

but from the heat, from sleeping all morning,

from my life.

Emmett, always trying harder,

had gotten on the wagon at the crack of dawn.

I could see him coming in, pulled back

by the skinny horse, both of them swatting flies.

Around me men started to grumble,

to fight.

Everybody was getting the same money.

Emmett and I were getting the same money.

Suddenly I couldn't stop laughing.

Ahead, in the green shade of the fig tree

that crackpot stood,

handing out the pay, saying

I love you.