Starry night

 

Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh  (1889)

 

Eleven stars and a crescent moon gleam
so brightly that dark night flows around them,
 
and below, town and orchard stand in line,
tame and solid despite the wild night.
 
To witness such divinity takes grace,
and Van Gogh, whatever else he faced,
 
had an eye for glory beyond a grim town
that neither cypress nor steeple could drown.
 
He burst bonds of civilization
and flew into blue imagination
 
riding the storms of creativity
that don’t rest for troubled humanity.
 
This is how we who stand on earth can dream
in shades of blue, black, yellow, and green--
 
seeing the outlines that hold the known world,
while above no outline contains the swirl.
 
New stars are being born every minute.
Our possibilities have no limit.

 

For Sumana's prompt "Ekphrastic Poetry" at What's Going On? 

 

My blog poems are rough drafts.

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© 2025 Susan L. Chast