The peony blooms opened just days ago,
Soft round balls of warm pink
Sitting atop tall dark green stems.
The bulbs are clustered
but they open one at a time,
Each offering its fullness in turn.
Today, the large blossoms rest on the grass,
heavy with their own weight
and the added weight of the rain that fell last night.
I wonder what twine or fencing I might have in the barn.
I imagine I could create some support,
Alleviate the weight of their burden.
I watch an ant walk from a blade of grass
into the heart of one of the blooms,
Disappearing into the soft sweet folds.
The ant is served by the weighted blossoms.
What else might benefit?
Maybe the drooping is part of the peony’s offering,
A generous bowing to the earthbound insects
when it is done serving the airborne.
There is so much I do not know.
I am no longer wondering about twine and fencing.
I contemplate life and fullness,
Weight and burden, generosity and surrender,
Witnessing and honoring, beauty and decay.
The mysteries are infinite and close at hand.
Soft pink peony
Explosion of vibrant life
Rest your heavy head