Monet's Garden

His canvas & oil impressions … lie
Across the ages locked at night
Away from those with dirty fingernails.
 But when the sun rises
and it does whether witnessed by man or not –
Claude's garden glistens with the Master's legacy.
Water lilies did not ask an engineer's compass
Permission to grow.
In any direction it spreads, nature forgives or foregoes,
The pulse of men's designs.
The petals so arrayed do not beg a frame
To achieve beyond mere renditions.
Praising the sun on its way to death
Does not require a righteous God,
For he and his nurse a common breast.