the first time I looked at it. . .

Troubled night,

Nature’s angry heart

Calmed by simple charity;

Giving your nightmares

Gentle form

the wind, perhaps, was swirling. . .

Hazy night

Wind carrying hopes

Of naïve citizenry

Past the aloof stars,

Benign moon

but appeared to dance. . .

Starry night,

Silent and unconcerned

A toneless music

Setting the heavens

To reel

in the light that it provides. . .

A bright night

Crescent speaking

To darkness,

"I decline, yet I defy

your rule."

Saint-Remy and the rest of France. . .

Fitful night,

Stars peeking through haze

A storm, massing at the gates

Residents at siege

Waiting, safe

but between Saint-Remy and heaven. . .

Fateful night,

Happening as it must,

The mountains holding the sinners

In the grace-full basin

Planned for, prescribed

The light from the windows reflecting the stars. . .

Silent night,

The twinkle in the glass

The only indication

Of one moment’s change

From others

The cypress reaches it. . .

Holy night,

A sermon from the hillside,

Your view suggesting

The value of piety,

Of character

that, perhaps, is what flows. . .

Passionate night,

A blazing, energetic scene

Ignited by the simple

Play of stars in

Easy motion

Which belongs to me?

Thoughtful night

Memory of that star

Must have demonized your dreams

Until exorcised,

Comforted

to serve to moving company. . .

The madhouse! Madness?

I can only wish

For a small bit

Of the insanity that allowed

The small people in those houses

To be blessed

With an immortality of which

They would be always

Unaware

Starry night,

Moon bright, waning,

Illuminating cypress, steeple,

Capturing a stormy peace