Peonies

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Peonies in the garden, nodding their heavy heads towards the grass as I walk to the house from the car.   A grand bouquet of peonies on my kitchen table and a small globe of peonies aflame with western light on the coffee table, scenting the house, greeting me as I walk from room to room.  Peonies poking through the railings on my porch as I sit here, in late afternoon sun after a long day in the yard and garden.  The birds are quarreling, a cricket is whirring and I am awash in the deliciousness of peonies.

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About Grace Mattern

Grace Mattern is a poet, writer, mother, grandmother, partner, friend, family member, gardener, triathlete, hiker and for 30 years was the Executive Director of the NH Coalition Against Domestic and Sexual Violence. She resigned her position at the Coalition on June 15, 2011 in order to concentrate on her writing, while continuing to engage in the movement to end violence against women as a consultant and advisor. Her chapbook Fever of Unknown Origin was published in 2001 and her full-length poetry book The Truth About Death was published in 2012.
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3 Responses to Peonies

  1. akbarnad says:

    I miss being there for them in all their glory!

  2. postscripts59 says:

    As much as I love them in the garden, peonies are a flower that begs to be picked, heads too heavy for their bodies, as if their facial beauty weren’t enough, their seductive scent, irresistible to those of us who spend much time outdoors. Bringing a few inside makes it a little easier closing the porch door at night.

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