Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Peonies 10:00 AM - Day 5 - Overblown

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 black 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 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?
-- Mary Oliver


  1. Love this poem. I've never seen it before. I want to be wild, never perfect but wild for a moment would be lovely.

  2. Do you cherish your humble and silky life?

    I love it.

    Love Mary Oliver. Love your photo. Love creativity.

  3. Wow. Yes. I do love all of that. And I love you.

  4. Gorgeous. The flowers and the poetry.

  5. Perfect. You know how much I love them.

  6. To read this aloud is wonderful. It rolls off my tongue and slides out with delight! What a lovely poem that I will add to my box of poems I like.

    Oh I do like this....

  7. I just love Mary Oliver, and your photos are exquisite!

  8. Your photographs and this poem remind me of my father's pink peonies, planted in a circle smack in the center of the expansive back yard. It looked like a big pink lake. He loved them so much. And when he brought a bunch into the house my mother would make the most beautiful arrangements, as if she'd been trained for just that purpose, to arrange all that lusciousness in a way that made you just want to dive right into the middle of it. Thank you for these memories and for your perfect flowers and that perfect poem.

  9. total, heavenly eye-candy. LOVE peonies :)



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