Monet at Normandy
He paints the wind, the bearded man
out on a bluff with a rickety easel and a hat
he must clamp to keep the wind from ripping away.
He paints a sea of ripples and tints: pthalo green,
ocher, azure, vermilion and cerulean. White-
tipped and black-laced, the concentric curlicues
materialize energy in echoing ogees or smiles
in the sea. A puckered sky driven by the whip
of forces you would have thought too complex
to paint. He paints its effects, evidence
of the effortless engine of weather.
Snow effects, tide effects. Morning
and evening he’s out here to catch
what no camera will ever encompass.
Fog impressions anchored and skimmed
by his eye’s restless boat. It tacks
among currents that sculpt grasses and waves.
It circles one red, foreground parasol
precursor of the calm lily he will one day
with his brush circle and circle,
a boat dotting the blue immensity.
–rachel dacus