Bright Pastel Beatitude
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
As darkness deepens in between the hedge
And me, the peonies grow dim but do
Not disappear. They hang just by the edge
Of nothingness. They still shine pinkly through
The dark though almost ghostly now. If I
Took up a flashlight and went out with it,
Attempting to return to daylight’s eye,
They might object, preferring to be lit
By moon and stars. Perhaps the moon were best
Since it, like them, appears but briefly. Wraiths
Them all, the peonies and moon, when pressed
They bow away believing in their faiths,
The faith of sky with night and day, and creed
Of spring, which teach them patiently to cede.