—In response to Childe Hassam’s “Twenty-Six of June, Old Lyme.”  1912

When the peonies bloom I will revel
in their elegance and wear my Chinese silks
light and free.  When the peonies bloom
I will fill all the vases with them
so their scent permeates every room
delighting you and me.  When the peonies
bloom, we will know winter is over
along with its darkening gloom.

Ah, the great day that it is, the day
the peonies bloom.



This poem is also a product of August Postcard Poetry.  I’m posting it this second day of March with snow falling steadily the past two days making me feel as if I live in a snow globe being constantly shaken.  In some areas it is too warm for the snow to amount to much, at higher elevations it’s getting deeper.  This time of year putting on several layers of clothing, the lightness of wearing Chinese silks only is a long way off.


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