Monet's Water Lilies
by MJ Moore
“It took me a while to understand my water lilies . . .” Monet
With no idea how he was teasing Fate,
Monet dug his pond, planted willows, added water lilies.
Walked along the shore every day,
but brought no brush or palette.
Then one day—the shifting beauty,
the tussle of flowing water, floating flowers,
haunting purple depths.
The reflections of dripping branches
that wavered up toward the sky.
The frenzy of sparkle and shadow
changing every moment.
He began to paint fiercely,
absorbing color and light,
splashing and dabbing
the vibrating canvases.
How his water lilies made him suffer,
or so he claims. Thirty years.
When he wiped his brushes and palette clean,
two hundred paintings shimmered on studio walls.
In the museum, reverent crowds
Imagination wanders the curved path at pond’s edge,
while across the cool ripples,
light dances and laughs.