Thinking about Van Gogh and His Visitors

After taking a stroll through the exhibit and while waiting for the talk to begin, I jotted down some haiku and enjoyed the air conditioning.

Watching people look
At Vincent’s brief flame of life
What am I seeking?

They pause and gesture
They stop to read the small signs
And slowly, move on.

The couple pauses
The wife, gestures with her head
The husband nodding, turns.

Find where the light goes
And making it shine brightly
Dash in the shadows

Draw just what is there
Caressed by artist’s eye
Flying past the frame.

Sitting in the garden
Trees carving arcs of color
Dabs of red flowers.

A man asks someone
What’s this thing about nature?
It’s not natural.

If he’d lived longer
Would sun and wheat have escaped,
Chased by the reaper?

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