Especially the Peonies

for ejk, June 2, 2018

in my backyard

Bade to be witness,

I could resist

(and sometimes do ~

though never for long).

For some, this is god.

Or gift.

For others, it is call.

For still others,

it is how we are beholden

to one another

in this cosmic cacophony.

In my backyard

There are moments in late spring,

before the heat is a harsh companion,

I admire this garden planted

by others who came before me:

offering itself to my witness.

This season,

same as last year

and different, too,

has been an ongoing riot

of color

& shape

& texture –

besting my sophisticated vocabulary.

Especially the peonies.

Who stretch precarious tall

on long-limbed stem,

tiny tight bulb atop.

Quick as a wink, tiny

becomes tremendous

becomes burst gargantuan,

relentless velvet layers

held fast at center,

fractal bang of the universe.

In my backyard

Quick as second wink,

they curve, then yield,

gravity’s downward decay,

lavish blossom disintegrating

toward Destiny of All.

In my backyard

Destiny of any

who would be witness.

Yes, this me.

Yes, this you.

Yes, this us.

Yes, this all.

God.

Gift.

Call.

Covenant.

It matters not which.

My heart murmurs,

over and over:

Gratitude my companion,

may I be awake.

May I stay awake.

May I become awake.

in my backyard