The Sun Poured

The sun has poured all this day
and I have been inside, away,
oblivious to the cornflower blue's
light breezes
for I have things to do and be -
enjoying my day,
thinking my luck,
reading a good book
that kept me from my study.
I regret it not, bright day
all leisurely -
I need not laze
in some park or recline
in sun to be as I am.
I remember another time and
place of glittering seas and
china skies of endless sun
days splitting heaven -
then too I faced the wall.
It calls, it calls: 
my heaven-sent place is
outside gloriousness -
but now is not yet 
time to sit in sun, forget
pressure of deadlines.
I have hills that beckon,
ground that debates
my feet with me each day
I trudge my steady steps
to reach far-off existences
and places of repose -
a garden, a house,
Bronté rolling on the grass,
trees, flowers, me supine at last:
my own home beneath an azure
sky of days the summer pours.
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