Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

accept anything when I urged her. “Why” she said “I only gave you a piece of bread and some coffee.” I climbed the hill from their house, and lay down on a high bank by the side of a wheat field flat on my back. The sky had now become partially covered with dappled clouds. In the west the sky was a pattern of sun-rays & dapples. Overhead, the ones the dapples were big and soft, and were marvelous blurred gradations of blue & white; my body was completely gone, I was so exhausted; my mind was filled with the sight of the nodding wheat-heads, the calls of kill-deers and meadowlarks, while above floated these wonderful soft clouds like a benediction. I arrived home at the last glimmering twilight; in the cool blackness of shade.; Today at noon the hot moist air seems full of the sound of whistles, and organs and calliopes, and indeed, a circus is in town but these sounds seem of more obscure origin.