Monet’s “Peace under the Lilacs”

We imagine a breeze, then the moment
The breeze stops, the lilacs still
Swaying, but ever so little,
The air clear of everything
Except the recovered innocence of lilac
Scenting the air, spreading its largess,
The soft air of late afternoon made
Softer. Imagining this much peace,
Our eyes moisten. We would like to sit
Under the curve of the lilacs
Where three people sense the day
Meeting their needs, their life becoming
The easy agreement of the triangle
They make, the curve of their bodies
Recollecting the curve of the lilacs.
We would like to sit on the restful slopes
Of the supporting lawn and talk
In the simplest words, as if we knew
What our lives have meant. Or listen,
Our eyes closed, to the filigree
Of birdsong which floats from the tapestry
Of pinks and whites and violets.
We would sit there forever, or as long
As we could, the light above
The lilacs come back to remind of evening,
Of a day which promises perfection even
As it falls away. The muted light consoles,
Though consolation is what we give
For grief, for what we can imagine
While the afternoon lasts
Under the lilacs’ tender sway and sigh.