The Matrix

Back to the grind after a week off, lots of catching up to do and things to confront that I’ve been putting off. This poem, a sonnet by Amy Lowell, seems an appropriate choice for today. It’s just a bit of a shame I can’t find any nectarines.

Goaded and harassed in the factory
That tears our life up into bits of days
Ticked off upon a clock which never stays,
Shredding our portion of Eternity,
We break away at last, and steal the key
Which hides a world empty of hours; ways
Of space unroll, and Heaven overlays
The leafy, sun-lit earth of Fantasy.
Beyond the ilex shadow glares the sun,
Scorching against the blue flame of the sky.
Brown lily-pads lie heavy and supine
Within a granite basin, under one
The bronze-gold glimmer of a carp; and I
Reach out my hand and pluck a nectarine

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