Li Po And Cherry Wine Poem by James McLain

Stretched out In the tall grass on my side,
I muse at the fact they are full.
Thumping the wide side of each.
Tis not water I seek, cherry wine.

The moon makes me speak against my mind.
From the bottom to the top of the well,
during the night when I'm in my cups deeply sleeping.
Nodding off her I see that one drop of dew
slide down from a single green bamboo leaf.
It's nights like these when I can't see,
you I found.