The Garden Bug: Pear Blossom

By Brenda Weaver

All alone by the veranda railing,

teardrops drenching the branches,

although her face is unadorned,

her old charms remain.

Behind the locked gate,

on a rainy night,

how she is filled with sadness.

How differently she looked

bathed in golden waves

of moonlight, before the darkness fell.

Chinese poet Qian Xuan (1280)

Source: www.metmuseum.org