We like the Monets.
He prefers Rouen Cathedral and I prefer the ships in La Havre.
Each is a palette of blues and grays, and a bit of orange.
Each evokes some sense of fate forthcoming, the sun running
over the waters and elegant spires reaching into the sky.
Things that command silence, or awe, or gratitude.
We move through the museum at a medium pace,
stopping in front of walls next to other
congregations of worshippers, heads lifted
not because we need to do so to see – we could step back -
but because it feels right to only look up at miracles,
it feels right to place ourselves at their feet.
Someday we will hang prints of the Monets on our walls,
remember tumbling out of the museum into a black courtyard
dotted with tiny white lights, a copy of the sky above us.
I took a picture of him that night, another copy
of something more beautiful.
Remember, share is a verb too.