Harvesting Nuts

With this morning’s coffee
to supplant what could have
been post-coital benevolence
I’ll likely stay languid and
be indolent until the day
kicks in the door

Outside a grey and leaden
sky demands nothing of me
merchantly softening sounds
of whining machinery echoed
surreally along tree rows
sweeping up macadamias

Been at it for days; their damn
persistence tries a set of
lunatic precepts that mills
lassitude from honest endeavour
but I won't be ground down
in their abrasive resonance

I plan to join the cacophony
on my own terms, orchestrate
counterpoint to the ceaseless
whine with explosive bursts
of joyful energy – and sing
while I mop the floor
© 23 June 2010, I. D. Carswell