Meanwhile, Melody Muses…

From here, the canvas seems so skewed –

the parts and colors have no rhyme or reason, no purpose.

Bud, blossom, pistil and stamen,

pollen and spot and stem,

all fight for the viewer’s eye.

Where is the unity of form?

Where the beauty of grace and composition?

But take a step back,

and the painting morphs.

Like Monet’s waterlilies,

when taken in the round, they snap into perfection,

glorious in context,

sprouting meaning like flower-petal wings…