Thursday Poetry Post: Peonies

their red stems holding all that dampness and recklessness gladly and lightly

Hi, happy Thursday! It’s spring, it’s May, it’s wedding season, it smells like flowers outside, it’s time for Mary Oliver.

I grew up with peonies. They got a head start. They’re on the edge of the yard at my childhood home – if you look on Google Maps Street View¹, you can see them in full bloom in late spring of ‘07 – protecting the grass, the kids, and the pets from the busy road. When I’m home and they’ve started to bloom, I like to walk to the edge of the yard and look at them. Touch them. Play with the ants that dizzy themselves in the folds of the petals. Run away from the ants because what if they’re FIRE ants and they BITE me? Smell them (the peonies not the ants!).

(Tree Peony, Moutan, 1838. Via Flickr. Swallowtail Garden Seeds.)