Tuesday, March 27, 2007


Golden slumbers
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
A drowsy maid snuggled down But the earth is not asleep.

After much bog work of filling the pitcher plants and picking flies out of the sundews and such, the fair maid retires to her fresh nest, and she bundles down amidst the moss for some rest. Consciousness of the world is suspended, but the world is not at rest. It never is.

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