
on a scented night
long ago
the god came down
from a hill and found
the moon settled on a pond
the god got down close
and ran a finger
through the moon’s middle
calling forth the peony
from then on, the flower
does not know
it’s a moon on water
and the moon wonders
why the earth is so near
we see it fluffed
and frilled because
the god has yet to blink
her finger forever wet
on a night that never ends
