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