It was exactly a year ago that the phrase
"green land, pink sea" occurred to me,
as I observed the fat round peony buds.
(see the end of this post)
I obsessed on that vision for a while, painting it, writing a poem.
I moved on, but now I'm there again
looking for meaning in a flower.
This year, I've been observing the peonies closely,
even reading a bit of an old botany text to try to understand.
Again I'm wondering what can I do with it?
Nothing is better than the thing itself.