The Yellow Chinese Tree Peony
a Mothers' Day gift for my garden
has ceased to bloom
not so the blue hydrangea, another
Mothers' Day special
which grows and thrives
on benign neglect, tucked back
out of sight around the corner
where I planted it years ago,
now spills cascades of bloom
that I can see from my sunroom
challenging my long-held antipathy
to blue hydrangeas (I thought them
artificial looking, fake, like
blue icing on a birthday cake)
yet here they are-when that which I cherished
has left me-demanding my attention.
insisting I admire, even love them.
I give in. It is hard to resist this kind
of persistence, to remain immune
to such splendid showmanship.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem