The peonies bloom, white and pink. <br />And inside each, as in a fragrant bowl, <br />A swarm of tiny beetles have their conversation, <br />For the flower is given to them as their home. <br /> <br />Mother stands by the peony bed, <br />Reaches for one bloom, opens its petals, <br />And looks for a long time into peony lands, <br />Where one short instant equals a whole year. <br /> <br />Then lets the flower go. And what she thinks <br />She repeats aloud to the children and herself. <br />The wind sways the green leaves gently <br />And speckles of light flick across their faces. <br /> <br />The charms of the ordinariness soothe the threat of anxiety.<br /><br />Czeslaw Milosz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/by-the-peonies/
