The Sweet Sound of Cracking Nuts

Sometime long ago in New England...a writer dreams.

The Sweet Sound of Cracking Nuts

Woe to you, great white whale,
slave of academe!
Were you but Melville's anchor
in a sea of frightened sperm,
or but Christ and Christmas
gaily wrapped beneath a barren tree
in April?  What has escaped
your clutches to become studied matter,
laboriously hacked into hackneyed theses?
Once I sat beneath the chestnut tree
and did not envy the village smithy.
I saw the damage wrought on natural things,
and picked the blossoms and the nuts.
Ah, to smell sweet New England blossoms!
Herman, what Protestant longings
hold you captive!  I sit here
like a restless ocean, swaying
to the sound of the great whale's breath
I hear so distant from this plank road
and its dusty habits. 
I take each nut and crack it open
to find the great white whale
singing.