Her Wheat Field – A Poem by Dan A. Cardoza


Submitted by Dan A. Cardoza

She focused on her wheat field, in her window pane,
clearly in plain view, but when it comes to sadness

it’s much more complicated, out of focus &
abstract. She placed it in her favorite lacquered

breakfast tray, where it would not stay put. So she
pounded in a wall nail & secured it with a proper hook.

In all its brilliant sunshine, clouds & windy summer
crows, not even this would do. Its essence clearly not

right, quite. She imagined it a fabrication within a lie,
within a cardboard box, wrapped with Easter yellow

ribbon & bow too. So she fetched her palette, making
sure each flaxen had its designated cast, and then

applied it to her canvas where she felt it right at home.
But by now her clouds were delirious, full of grays of

feathered hues, her golden wheat fields mourning all
their glorious golden flaws. Her work now complete, all

her sky’s now spackled black, and full of raspy caws.

Photo Credit: The Month of the Grape Harvest – Rene Margritte

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