Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
Excerpted from Mary Oliver’s poem “Peonies.”
You can find the full version here. If you haven’t read it, please do. It’s lovely.