It's Still Life

Date: 21.7

Over there
in the midst of wind turbines,
where a field of green
is glad of rain,
and a line of trees
form strokes on the horizon,
stand a few Charolaise facing
away from the weather.

It’s Van Gogh.
His fields,
an infinity of sunflowers,
heavy heads, downcast
brown and drying in the sun.
His fields
baled hay, bronzed and amber
under coiffed clouds.

A farmer.
His wife.
A tractor.
The dust.

We clock off miles
through Bourgogne and Champagne,
Renoir scenery to Calais.
We drive against rain
steer for the horizon.

This grand July.
This grand tour.
Au revoir. Arrivederci. Adieu.
We are heading home.

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023.