Like a Peony

I want to be
flagrantly fragrant,
soft and generous,
amiable and strong,
like a peony.

At first, tight-fisted
and introspective,
but then, they fling
wide their arms,
and thrust forward
their gloriously
stamen-laden bosom,
to connect with
the waiting day.

This is how I too
want to embrace my being,
like freeze-frame fireworks
exploding up high
while my feet
are still safely planted.
Regularly replenished,
I’d blossom and burgeon
even after being cut down
by a cold, dormant season–
returning like clockwork,
to unfurl ever so vibrantly,
full of fancy ruffles
and flounced skirts,
petals curling
in an effort to express
effulgence effectively.

Simultaneously
proud and bashful,
vociferously sharing
who they are,
and what they think,
while slightly bowing
their heads, overcome
by the magnitude
of the magnificence
they’ve been given.
Demure, they are
robustly replete
with cautious confidence,
and that special brand of
humble, selfless beauty
that gives it all away.

I too want to be
so spendthrift
in contributing
all I’ve got
to improving life
for those around me.

by Polly Castor
June 8, 2024