Editor’s Note: Don’t laugh at the title. The Hermits won’t say they were hippies, because the guardians of Vine’s borders and shepherds for the lost among Vine’s mountains don’t have that kind of vocabulary. But they were hippies. Speaking of vocabulary, a reminder: I’m told the Hermits infuse their songs and stories with meaning in enjambment that is known only to the Hermits, and that these are meant to be sung in three-part harmony (though solo singing is acceptable, since Hermits are usually alone). I’m told, like with the music of Vine, that the melodies are simple to a Hermit’s ear but dissonant and foreign to all others.

I feel lucky—genuinely, the kind of lucky that makes me tip a glass of whiskey mountainward—to have gotten as much contact with the Hermits as I have been granted. Like said, the Hermits of Vine are a revered kind of noble and willing outcast, viewed as—well, if not holy, then close to God. The guardians of Vine’s borders and shepherds for the lost among Vine’s mountains. That’s a big job. There are, of course, some stories of Hermits being accused of thievery or even murder, but you ask me? That’s a product of later, paranoid developments among the people of Vine. 

Below is—I’m told—a “training parable” to remind Hermits of their duty to Vine’s border: 

“a van of travellers approaches”

Prayer of Thanks

O Lord we on dust-covered knee

dirt-patch pants cracked cut up toes

do thank you—

::for food

::for Nature’s daily bounty

::for Your Love like Sun&Rain

::for this land of Vine

humbly we 

present a story of travellers

Arrival of Van 

One day sun high on Prophet’s Bald trees approaching

Spring green like hummingbird fern river running like new gold watch

Byside roads near northeast border bone-tired but morning-full 

Border swishing engine sounds outsiders rumble-hum hail a greeting out

Come three: searching/servant-like/shrouded

In the name of God show kindness to strangers—

There is a difference between seeking

And being open to understanding

All are welcome to wander

There are answers to find in Vine

And we live humbly and serve God

All are welcome to wander

The Musician Does Not Stay In Vine

(a man wearing red & dust steps out of VAN with GUITAR)

What’s up man you live in the wilderness? That’s cool

Man we’re lighting out for the West man searching for answers man

Open road right? Nothing but guitar tank of gas and hey man you

Got any grass around here man like you know? Man it’s cool if not man

We’re not trying to infringe on your territory man

No no no I say to live

Humble and serve God? Not my scene

And hey man I cannot gather moss you do you dude

No West is too West

Holiness? just grateful to check out the territory man

The High School Graduate Becomes Susan, Wife of Vine

(a woman in blue carries EYES like harvest corn & a smell of EARTH)

And what is postmodernity but shambles of burnt brush and what is

Workforce expectations but another name for chains and what is want

Is & what is the opportunity of tradition & what is the taste of honeysuckle & what

Emptiness is the field you can show me & what is my relief in God O my soul O my Lord

[I would love to see Vine will you show me]

I stuffed peanut butter sandwiches for the children’s winter coat drive

Am gone from breakfast at Church lit candles hot cocoa stable roof

Lost in mornings we tend our garden & buy the day’s supplies

Confused about time slipping

[I am grateful to live in Vine thank you for showing me]

The World-Weary Cynic Attempts Life In Vine

(a man is a postcard signifying an electric fence meant for LIVESTOCK. He approaches with FUNCTIONING EYESIGHT. His pants are gray)

Chaos man like in the streets? Whole city’s going

To hell & you know what

Man? I’m telling you I feel electric in my bones

Fried like chicken man fried like

[I could kick it in Vine]

You know how it goes man says no complaints all he does is

Complain yeah I got a wife yeah I got snot-nosed kids yeah I got a rash

Man you know how life is you know where The Man keeps you you know

What it’s like man you know what I’m saying I know you man you know

[& now I have kicked it in Vine]

(a group of HERMITS emerges from the trees and drags the lifeless body of CYNIC into WOODS. There is a chorus of FLUTES fashioned from fallen branches)

On Wanders The Hermit

(spoken: WALKING, voices growing ever distant)

Mountain valley stream & river

Lake & sky fields & crops

Elders priests

People of Vine

All are my brothers & sisters in Christ; this land: consecrated for Us

Please have open ears

Hear this tale & in future foresee

Please have open eyes

There is a difference between seeking

And being open to understanding

All are welcome to wander

There are answers to find in Vine

And we live humbly and serve God

All are welcome to wander

& now our tale is done

& now our lessons learned

& this is 

::the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God::