Field of Blackbirds

Wheat Field with Crows by Vincent Van Gogh (1890)

Bury me
When I die
In a field of blackbirds
‘Neath a melancholy sky.


Where nothing remains
Of the rich golden grains,
Except dried decayed grasses,
Crushed by the hard rains.


Cawkish cries of delight
Above my death bed
Make you forget for a moment
Cruel things I once said.


Long after you
And I are gone
There’ll be another field
Where the blackbirds live on.