Van Gogh’s “Wheatfield with Crows”

These fields that should feed us
ignite, the wind-twisted wheat

barbed with flames. These roads
that should take us home

go to nothing but fists of gray smoke
punching bruised and cindered clouds.

There's no escape for the black birds
burned to animate ash, crows

like stitches ripped from the sky.
Two fields like lungs struggle to breathe

in the heat. Listen how the air carries
the crackling language of mindless fire.

Copyright 2013 by Brian Dean Powers
Published in the 2015 Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar


10 thoughts on “Van Gogh’s “Wheatfield with Crows”

  1. I see you wrote this three years ago Brian, and yet it seems to be such a pertinent reflection on the terrible fires raging in Alberta right now. You do it very well.


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