Unfurling
Each year it happens and each year it is a surprise. One day the peonies are tight fists and the next they are open hands, palms overflowing with absurdly pink lace. When the green buds were still resolutely shut, all day the shiny black ant teased at the corners unfurling, knowing it could mine sweetness there despite the misleading fist.
And here I am falling open as the universe unfolds me once again.
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