Perigee Blooms

When the moon's above the blossoming plum
And reflecting in my midnight tea,
I know the sun is where the moonbeam's from,
Only...redirected from a lunar sea...
Then made fresher yet by a breeze on high
And filtered by some vernal puffs above
A modest portion of plum scented sky,
Transfused by twigs on a fruit tree in love,
And from time to time the clouds drift apart
To crown those blooms with undiluted beams
In an exaltation of nature's art...
Exceeding all daylit siesta dreams,
Which will never show a Supermoon glow
Painting fruit blossoms as redolent snow!