Peony Moon

under a peony moon

the bashful lady

walked through me,

speaking clever southern syllables.

quickly collect two insomnias,

living with or living without,

one the fire, one cold stream.

in the earth before the frost,

beautifully balanced

tea of sweetened seeds

remedies all things.

waiting for the other form

she whispers in the wind,

“know when to bend,

be the greatest garden”,

lifting my face to night sky

under a peony moon,

a harvest of all harvests.