Heavy with beauty
from the world's other side,
peonies arched and moral
in the majesty of June,
bowed to the ground
as the storm goes bragging,
the air charged and the sky dragging,
thunder pounding its chest,
red running through us as petals fall,
and in the midst of it all
the hylas are singing,
praising the rain and each other.
Everything we feel and see is us,
and anything is possible.
