Vincent, by Mary McCarthy

Wheat Field with Crows, by Vincent Van Gogh (Netherlands), 1890.

Vincent

At the end you went past
the blandishments of light
past the golden shimmer
of its dance across
the surfaces of things-
pushing down to something
more elemental
the spin and shiver
of subatomic particles
humming in the space beneath
ordinary sight--
their motion caught
in swift jabs of paint
punched out on flat canvas--
the electric pulse
of creation
shining with intent--
trees curling like
flames against the sky
stars that swirl and tumble
across the restless night
wind moving through
the living wheat
where the skirl of crows rises
and the road runs headlong
to its vanishing point
at the junction
of pain and exaltation

Mary McCarthy

Mary McCarthy has always been a writer, but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. She has had many publications in journals, including Earth's Daughters, Caketrain, and The Evening Street Review, among others. She has only recently discovered the vibrant poetry communities on the internet, where there is so much to explore and enjoy.