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?

from New And Selected Poems by Mary Oliver

(c) Mary Oliver
I heard Tara Brock read this poem this morning. She included it in a Dharma talk she gave on June 7, 2017 entitled "Happiness is Possible: Deconditioning the Negativity Bias Part 2 on Dharma Seed:
May we all "...experience their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment before they {we} are nothing, forever."
I created the collage of peonies from a single photograph I took on June 10, 2011 on Heath street in Toronto.
Marty Keltz
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