I brought home a bouquet of peonies last week, 
deep raspberry pink, and I arranged them 
in the living room, near the entranceway. 
They are bombs exploding with perfume, 
positively soporific. 
Crossing the room or leaving the house 
I feel like Dorothy in her opium field, 
I just need to rest awhile. 
(Though for some reason the cat is immune.) 
Sweet relief, their exotic powers 
are drying up now, 
so I can wake up.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
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