Grief Crows

The last of the wildflowers
has faded, the air is pregnant

          with the first breath of falling
          leaves, and long grass is meshed

with violet splashes, common
knapweed on common ground.

          A glance overhead reveals
          something flapping, a black glove

or a hand, waving, first one
and then another, keeping close,

          mime artists skittering – crows
          reminding me of the imminent end

of this month, this season, this year, this life.
I join them in mourning, share their grief.

Kim M. Russell 17th October 2023

‘Canyon with Crows’ (1917), watercolor and graphite on paper, Gift of The Burnett Foundation 2007.1.5, Georgia O’Keeffe Museum

Tuesday has come round again, hand in hand with Poetics at the dVerse Poets Pub, and Melissa is hosting with a prompt about the haunted souls of artists and poets, focusing on three artists who had various mental health struggles: Edvard Munch, Georgia O’Keeffe and Vincent van Gogh. Not only has Melissa provided comprehensive backgrounds for each of the artists but also a selection of artwork, from which she would like us to choose an image as inspiration. I’ve written quite a few poems inspired by van Gogh, so I decided to take a look at Georgia O’Keeffe’s work and chose ‘Canyon with Crows’.

Also linked to Susan’s grief prompt at What’s Going On? on 14th May 2025

60 thoughts on “Grief Crows”

  3. I love the nod to the autumn season – the falling leaves: reminding me of the imminent end. We can all feel the passing of time in the autumn season and the coming of winter. Love the title and description of crows: mime artists skittering – crows.

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  4. “the air is pregnant with the first breath of falling leaves, and long grass is meshed with violet splashes,”… such stunning use of language here, Kim! Beautiful work done 😍😍

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  11. Not that well read on O’Keefe but I can see some of her later flowers in the depth of this watery tableau. You locate the heaviness of transition toward winter well and suggests why O’Keefe might have moved West to gain the clarity and sharpness of Western light.

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  25. “A glance overhead reveals / something flapping, a black glove . . . ”

    The voice suddenly becomes active and watches the crows before turning them into part of her reverie on last things. A beautiful moment in a solemn poem.

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  26. “A glance overhead reveals / something flapping, a black glove . . . “

    The voice suddenly becomes active and watches the crows before turning them into part of her reverie on last things. A beautiful moment in a solemn poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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