Peonies as big as turkeys
protect in each blossom a
freckle of red like paint
flecked from a toothbrush—O reticent,
O most delicate clumsiness!—
that softens and elevates
early bright days of summer.
Late in August a hummingbird
poises at a peach hollyhock
eight feet tall, its faint-edged pale
house of flower, hesitating to
enter crinks of pink zone. I
gaze into bird and flower,
to inhabit the blossoming now.