On Van Gogh's Wheatfields Under Clouds

On Van Gogh's Wheatfields Under Clouds

Clearly, it's all
coming apart--

the thundercloud
a slash of paint,

the deluge of deep
conflicting blues,

the fields ripening 
an unearthly green.

There are no dreams
left to dream--

the clump of poppies
seems an afterthought,

and the manic 
yellow zig-zag line,

indicating corn
or country lane,

suggests the final act
is indeed upon us--

and that no one,
not even the hint of rider

or the ghost of horse,
will now escape.