Peonies

Each May I anticipate their blooms

My gorgeous, long-lived peonies.

I see them from my art room window

Bright pink and white spheres of potentiality.

Each day getting a little larger

Until the moment comes

The exquisite unfurling begins.

I keep my fingers crossed

Hoping a heavy downpour

Won’t bow them to the earth.

But if the threat looms,

Those purplish-green clouds

From the southwest pile up,

Then out I will dash, scissors in hand

To clip the heavy blossoms

To create a magnificent bouquet

Of snowy white and vivid magenta.

The flowers will be blooming

Long after I am gone.

This reality comforts me.

Others will enjoy their ephemeral beauty,

Lives I know nothing about.

Eyes that aren’t mine

Will gaze with appreciation

On my breathtaking peonies.

What a gift from Mother Nature.