Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

the stone wall aching both physically & spiritually the sky just above the harbor horizon was a wind cold blue for a narrow strip, then above the color was suddenly warm & smoky – The grain elevators reflected in the water as monstrous black bulks & seemed to have thoughts of their own – a rank damp odor came up from the water – From one side came the vague sounds of the city. I thought of former spring evening & the song “Aller au bois” came to my mind, bringing with it a certain sadness on account of past moods that were gone forever. Then I thought of Bertha & how she represented to me the fullness & bountifulness of womanhood and I rejoiced that she was coming to me. Then a certain opening in the clouded sky reminded me of April thunderstorms when they have moved suddenly to the East, and the grandeur of old forgotten Pagan hands of the pagan gods representing natural phenomena, are created and live again for a time – there are other men along the harbor talking idly and their voices have a soft mysterious sound like the voices of people below downstairs when we are in bed in the sick-chamber. A train pulls out somewhere and I think of the railroad that stretches north of Sebring and past old woods & barren fields- Suddenly the harbor lights come on and I left.