Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Thoughts (in bed) Dec. 26—

Oh the agony of longing for what is irrevocably past – I unpacked some of the pictures that were sent down, this evening – before I went in the shop I had paused to look at the skies – to the east the December moon partially concealed by vague mists & whispy (sic) clouds that somehow expressed the torment of my mind; it had in it some of the exquisite pain of early spring – to the south west a star, glowed with what I can only call dim brilliance – the thrill of the unpacking was the discovery of “Burnt Forest” that I had given up for lost – Made in March 1918 – my mind flew back to that time

Dec. 26 – 2

with dizzy sudden-ness – the thoughts of brilliant march days in the waste lands of Ohio filled me with sadness—
Lying in bed the thousand and one unavoidable duties that I have surrounded myself with crowded down upon me like huge boxes or rocks – it seemed as if I would be suffocated – it was unbearable – Outside the moon was almost directly over head –the thrill of winter moons that are high in the sky—