Written is response to the http://www.ekphrastic.net for the ekphrastic challenge : Van Gogh Starry Night .
It was his Birthday
It was his birthday
When thinking becomes joined up
And is more than black and white
It was his birthday when the
Lines of traffic merged in a continuous Stream somewhere along the A38
When electric blue sent sirens down the Road in rotating motion and
Vapour trails slipped from white to Gold in laminar flow And twisted strands
Merged their course and conjured stars From spun cotton candy
It was his birthday when the sky turned Dark and the trees took
Shapes of chess pieces mid game. And flecks of white blew clouds from Stranded cars Into darkness
And he was still not home
It was his birthday.