by Karin Boye
If you cannot manage one step more,
cannot lift your head,
if you are sinking wearily under hopeless greyness -
then be thankful for the kind, small things,
You have an apple in your pocket,
a book of stories there at home -
small, small things, despised
at the time, that radiated living
but gentle footholds during the dead hours.
I'm thankful for these peonies which were drooping badly at the florists and I was kindly offered them for a dollar each. I cut the stems and they revived a little, and they've been cheering up my kitchen ever since.
They're a lovely soft pink, as you can see, but when the sun began to set, and the light came in the window, it seemed to reach right inside the flowers, and show a surprising fire within them. I had been thinking, maybe the strong and direct sun will make them droop again, maybe I should move them. But they seem to have withstood this ravishing, if you will.