L’Orangerie, Paris
Here, the oval nave —
chaste walls,
crystal-domed moons.
Rooted in alabaster
she’s a sail seeking.
Silence reverberates.
Light-misted canvasses
exhale, fill the room’s orb.
In each: the pond, a stipple —
lilies served by willows,
day’s tilt and hue.
Novice,
she enters the garden,
breeze’s spectrum,
listens for reflections.