The rain fell steadily as I walked along the beach at Etretat.
Gray clouds hung low and heavy.
Waves crashed against the cliffs in the distance.
I pulled my coat tighter.
A gull cried overhead, circling, searching.
The air smelled of salt and damp earth.
Rivulets ran down the sand into the sea.
The famous arches were shrouded in mist.
I was alone with my thoughts.
Memories mingled with the rain.
Life can be hard.
We seek shelter where we can.
On days like this, there is still a stark beauty to be found in the gloom.
​If we look for it.​

​Woke up late. 
Hair's a mess, sticking out every which way. 
Stumbled to the bathroom mirror. 
Stared at my reflection in this cramped Rouen apartment. 
Ran my fingers through the tangles, but they wouldn't cooperate. 
Oh well. C'est la vie. 
Some days are like that. 
Might as well embrace the chaos. 
Snapped a quick selfie, messy locks and all. 
Just another morning, another story. 

​I walked near Le Jardin d'Eau.
The famous water gardens in Giverny.
That inspired Monet's paintings.
His luminous water lilies and tranquil ponds.
I saw the Japanese bridge he built.
And stood before the weeping willows.
The wisteria and bamboo.
That he planted with care.
In this garden sanctuary.
Where light dances on water.
And Monet's vision comes alive.

​I stand before Monet's grave.
The day is cold, the sky gray.
Giverny's church in the near distance.
His years of color, now faded.
Impressions of a life fully lived.
Resting in the earth he once painted.
An artist's eternal palette.