Whenever I see the peonies begin to wilt and wither
I'm filled with a sense of loss...
Loss tends to make us bend a little closer to the bloom
To revel in the fragrant folds falling from summer’s loom
How subtle whirs the shuttle taming tendrils of the vine
Into a paisley fretwork of echo-woven design
Loss tends to make us kinder where we had been blind before
To how swift petals fade and fall to bloom for-nevermore
Whether the loss we suffer is a friend or season-flit
We find our hearts grow softer in the aftermath of it
Loss tends to make us more aware and thankful for Today
That ever- fleeting chariot that draws the years away
Filled with a holy hunger we can never quite appease
While petals fall from flowers like hours to memories
Loss tends to make us mindful of a deeper sense of Now
Its sorrow seems to kindle sweeter happiness somehow
As we learn to live slower and take time to take time in
Because Loss tends to tune us to the Farewell we are in
© Janet Martin
But as I mourn the end of another peony season I turn to
see that once again, the lily-lanterns are lit...
Loss tends to make us bend a little closer to the bloom...
The grass withers, the flower fades,
But the word of our God stands forever.”