Walking in Monet's Gardens at Giverny

with my husband of eighteen years, down a path
of pink tulips in a drift of forget-me-nots.
The whole garden, in fullest bloom:
poppies, peonies, lupines, a rainbow of iris.
The willows bend their green veils
over the water lily pool. We stop on the footbridge,
framed in wisteria: waterfalls singing with bees.
How we forget to love one another,
in the tangle of everyday life.
Let us lie down and love, here in the flowers,
kiss my skin, for it is petals, the velvet falls of iris,
the heart of the peony, its voluptuous curves.
Let us become flowers, casual and gorgeous
in our brief hour, in this iris-scented air,
this light of cut glass and fine wine,
for already the petals are starting to fall,
they cover the ground in a dusting of snow.

Copyright © 2004 Barbara Crooker All rights reserved
from Impressionism
Grayson Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission