Sunday, July 12, 2015

A Book of the Seasons: July 12



Now at least the moon
is full and I walk alone
which is best by night.

As I gather ripe
blackberries I feel as if
autumn is commenced.

Long after starlight
high-pillared clouds of the day
reflect a downy light.

The upland plover
hovers on quivering wing --
alights by steep dive.




A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, July 12

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2021

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