In such a "Wheat Field with Crows"

At Auvers-sur-Oise in one July

Were the crows actually flying away

From the troubled Vincent, on high?

Some wheat fields just held cornflowers

Others were simply referred to as a field.

The skies overhead always seemed cloudy

Leaving one to ponder what was the yield.

So many paintings hung, that around him lay

Forming some sort of epiphany, a halo around

With a white cloth draped across the coffin

As about him, dried sunflowers did abound.

The circuitous life, like so many empty chairs,

Eschatological intuitions, profound, retracted

Leave no doubt of transcendental support,

Despite the fact his suicide was enacted.

07/03/2008

Author's Note: I am a huge fan of the artist and his work...

Posted on 07/03/2008
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