Friday, September 28, 2012

snapshot: starlings, maybe

A boy stands, looking out

through the barred window
of the cornfield
row on row
straight as blue silos
straight as red barns.
His father’s tractor
turns more dull furrows
to the flat horizon and
only that distant cloud
dares to show a curve.
And this swirl of starlings
-- exploding --
from the yellow grain.

- Ralph Murre

That's an oil painting (about 3 x 5 feet) I started years ago, then abandoned, unfinished, for a very long time. I recently dug it out and completed working on it, I hope. Somewhere in the interim, the poem came to me. And no, it is not autobiographical. Exactly.   ~ R.M.

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