After all the wanderings—to arrive again at damp, indifferent green. A burgeoning green, swelling in wind that takes it skyward to tint the clouds. Not seen by the planter, walking past to post a letter, sharp cane levering the way. He will turn to the field when it has gone to gold.
The green of drowning. The green of shadowed nests filled with pink mice. How to wear all of this now in place of winter. A breeze can lift a brush.
And then it’s time to leave the swale of becoming. It’s sere, just now, in past and future. The gift of new wheat: a moment to set aside the gathering.
Green Wheat Fields, Auvers (oil on canvas, 1890)
by Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890)
From the Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon
at the National Gallery of Art
has taught creative writing and literature at The University of Texas at Dallas, The University of North Texas, and the Writer’s Garret, in Dallas. He now lives in Marfa, Texas. He is the author of This Is Not the Way We Came In, a collection of flash fiction and a flash novel (Ravenna Press), Winter Investments: Stories (Trilobite Press), and Prairie Shapes: A Flash Novel (winner of the 2004 Robert J. DeMott Prose Contest). His poems, short stories, and creative nonfictions have appeared in magazines and anthologies across the country, including Blink Ink, Cutbank, Eastern Iowa Review, New Flash Fiction Review, Star 82 Review, and Third Wednesday, among others.