A Book of the Seasons: November 25.

November 25.

Ice on the water
and winter in the air but
no snow on the ground.
November 25, 1850

Just as the sun shines
our Creator breathes on us
and re-creates us.
November 25, 1850

This morning the ground
is again covered with snow
deeper than before.
November 25, 1851

I hear at sundown 

what proves to be a flock of 

wild geese going south.  

November 25, 1852

Western mountains seen

through this clear and sparkling air

remarkably near.

November 25, 1853

Western mountains seen

remarkably near through this 

clear and sparkling air

November 25, 1853

Am glad to get back 

to wholesome New England now

in her russet dress.

November 25, 1856

The unexpected
exhilarating yellow
light of November.
November 25, 1857

Late these afternoons,
yellow sunlight reflected
through the clear, cold air.
November 25, 1858

This clear cold water
is as empty as the air.
I see no fishes.
November 25, 1859

Cold gleam reflected

from countless crows flying low.

This strong northwest wind.

November 25 1860

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 © 2009-2019