秋分帖 Autumn Equinox Okra

On the day of equinox, the okra blooms.
Petals thin as silk, hues pale as mist. Branches and leaves sparse and steady—as if stirred by a wind that does not move.
I trace their form in light ink and color, letting the silk's own sheen serve as light. A bloom that opens at dawn and closes by dusk—just a moment, yet it marks the year's most balanced day.
This painting is a letter. No words. For those who understand stillness.
Ink and color on silk.