Sunday morning

Sunday Morning

– Wallace Stevens

Complacencies of the peignoir, and late
Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair,
And the green freedom of a cockatoo
Upon a rug mingle to dissipate
The holy hush of ancient sacrifice.
She dreams a little, and she feels the dark
Encroachment of that old catastrophe,
As a calm darkens among water-lights.
The pungent oranges and bright, green wings
Seem things in some procession of the dead,
Winding across wide water, without sound.
The day is like wide water, without sound,
Stilled for the passing of her dreaming feet
Over the seas, to silent Palestine,
Dominion of the blood and sepulchre.

Well, this is one of my favourite poem, whenever I think of Sunday, this poem comes to my mind.

For me, it was a leisurely Sunday, did nothing special or notable, sometimes you need to go with the flow and let the day pass by its own. I happened to pick up some pasta grains, did some doodling over them and finally tied them with a felt chord. Hope to take a more elaborate project with pasta beads soon….


Till then….. Have a nice week ahead!

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1 Response to Sunday morning

  1. Martha says:



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