I Don't Fully Understand This One

In the Hills, a Plum Tree Flowers in a Small Garden


Blossoms all have shaken down, and alone
it casts a warm beauty over the garden,
whose slender shadows lie on shallow ponds.
A faint fragrance drifts under a dun moon.
Snowbirds, landing, look again, to see
what dusty butterflies would faint to know.
Lucky me, making friends with whispered verse—
who needs golden goblets or rhythm sticks?
--Liu Bu