Peonies by Mary Oliver
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart as the sun rises, as the sun strokes them with his old buttery fingers and they open, pools of lace, white and pink, and all day the ants climb over them, boring their deep and mysterious holes into the curls, craving the sweet sap, taking it away to their dark underground cities.
and all day under the shifty wind, as in a dance to the great wedding, the flowers bend their bright bodies, and tip their fragrance to the air, and rise, their red stems holding all the dampness and recklessness, gladly and lightly,
and there it is again, beauty the brave, the exemplary, blazing open.
Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, softly, exclaiming of their dearness, fill your arms with white and pink flowers.
With their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever.
The peonies have been so beautiful and abundant this year. They are one of the first flowers to bloom in my garden and I welcome them each year, knowing that full force of summer is right behind them. All of the above peonies are from my garden this year. I hope you enjoy the beauty and the delicacy of these sweet blooms.
Thank you Sean for the poem…Mary never disappoints.
