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wildness
The peonies, too heavy with their beauty,
slump to the ground. I had hoped
they would live forever but ever so slowly
day by day they’re becoming the soil of their birth
with a faint tang of deliquescence around them.
Next June they’ll somehow remember to come alive again,
a little trick we have or have not learned.
“Peonies” by Jim Harrison from In Search of Small Gods. © Copper Canyon Press, 2010.
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