Monet, Creuse Valley


A slight shift in humidity or weather
Season or light of day, summons a new
Configuration of hues throughout Creuse Valley.
A sterile chill that stills the play of waves
With lichened rocks discovers stubbled plains
In rose muted by clouds on the horizon.
Jade and violet splotches spilled on slopes
Displease, as sugars too sweet to savor,
But do so only to repell the viewer
To such a distance where he will not grope
The rug of little roots and waving weeds
Or fix his gaze on any rankling pattern;
To see only the pure intent of nature
As the eye perceives it in an instant.


In rapids we see not the virile swell
of cascades over sand and cracking stone
Drawing the crumbling banks and their green plants
Into a mortal dance, a decadent dream
Fit for the evil gleam of a smoky sky;
Rather light is reduced to frostlike streaks
Shining the finest sprays, the coolest shade,
The lingering glow of dusk, a vaporous race
Of winds swinging through grasses, circling trees,
Engaging each of these in pristine chorus,
Trilling as if birds relinquished song
To higher cause than instinct:
As if wings were dissolved from the body,
Chastely gracing the air with lace of light
Sparkling opaque in evanescent mists
Reflecting on the leaf tips of light trees
Glinting on ore unsullied by dry dirt.


The heavens send only such warmth with this light
As can be soon retrieved by frigidest breeze,
To smooth dislocations of sudden freeze,
Or gently train the firmness of spring blossoms,
But not to swell rank coilings in rough soil
Or hang sulphrous from fibers of dank bark
Not squandering itself on the luxurience
Of briers and thick vines, or grotesque trunks
Of such wild orchard trees as in decay
Emit distorting vapors, sponging heat
From summer beams that meld with lurid gleams
Of unctuous fungi, irritating air
With gnats and flaky motes, building bleak rhythms
To pique light’s sheer and weightless gaiety
Blotting sky with stain and smell of earth
Littering unweildy wood on winter landscapes
--In all this sunsual play there is a death,
But in the glittering streams and crystal streaks
That glide across sleek surfaces to return
Untainted by the base, or any blight,
Celestial ceremony is renewed.

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