These peonies did make me cry.  Their chirpy little voices, fizzing in my imagination like champagne.  “Oooh, you are so pretty!”  I said to them.  “We know!” they said – and I burst into tears.

And the breezy soft petunias, living on my most inhospitable fire escape.  They ring more than chirp, like bright wind chimes when I see them in the morning to water them.  I was supposed to grow them in my community plot, but I like them so much outside my backdoor, they stayed.

Here I am – between petunias and peonies.  They always know just what to say.