Peonies

Neighbor's Peonies

Prospect Gardens has two or three peonies discovered when we cleared out an area late last fall. They are not as lush and healthy as my neighbor's peonies. In honor of all peonies here's Mary Oliver's poem titled "Peonies".

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 the day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes

into their 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 that 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,

And softly,

   And exclaiming of their dearness,

         Fill your arms with the 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?