Poetry: Nine of Pentacles

Poetry: Nine of Pentacles

The grapes have ripened in the sun
To dusty garnet. Fan-shaped leaves
Tremble like paper. Round the eaves,
Vines curl their tendrils. Harvest’s done.

The jewels are cut. The silk is spun.
The hooded hawk rests on her perch.
Whatever drives the heart to search
For better fortunes is at peace.

Here, riches calve, old wines increase
In fame and flavor in their casks.
A steady hand tends to all tasks
In their due time, without surcease.

Here, all is comfort. Pampered earth
Yields bounty to the outstretched hand;
Delivers, to a soft command,
Full profits of the highest worth:
Prosperity, and warmth, and ease. 

[Anna Remennik is a chemical engineer working in Silicon Valley, and enjoys writing poems about automatic titrators, technical supply chain processes, and occasionally even more fantastical things. Her work has recently appeared in The Mathematical Intelligencer, Woods Reader, Radon Journal, and New Myths.com (including a poem nominated for the 2023 Rhysling Award) and was awarded third prize at the 2022 Patricia Eschen Prize for Poetry. She can be found online at https://annaremennik.wordpress.com]

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