Peonies have several layers of petals that surround the stamens. They are fragrant and fresh. In a lovely vase, they droop elegantly like a shower of roses.

I present those two lines I wrote, in the hope that you will in turn offer your lines or the lines of another writer. And since this is a blog about conversations in writing and literature, here comes the following:

My daughter loaned me what I deem a masterwork. It's my opinion. It may not be the opinion of other avid readers. She and I discussed the standards we require in literary works. She looks for an important theme, a plot that retains her attention, characters she likes. I do too. But the quality of the writing is the most important factor to sustain my interest and stir my enthusiasm. The following is the first paragraph of Barbara Kingsolver,s Prodigal Summer, a book about the supreme excellence of nature and human love in the midst of the flora and fauna that surround the protagonists.

Her body moved with the frankness that comes from solitary habits. But solitude is only a human presumption. Every quiet step is thunder to beetle life underfoot; every choice is a world made new for the chosen. All secrets are witnessed.

Almost at the very end, we read further:

When the rain and thunder died and the wind had gone quiet, coyotes began to howl from the ridge top. With voices that rose and broke and trembled with clean, astonished joy, they raised up their long blue harmony against the dark sky. Not a single voice in the darkness, but two: a mated pair in the new world, having the last laugh.

My daughter and I reach the same conclusions even though we come from somewhat different approaches. We both loved the book.