Why have I ever
omitted early rising
and a morning walk?
December 13, 1852
Prepared for winter,
cheerful to see snows descend
and hear the blast howl.
December 13, 1855
Fine dewdrops frozen
on grass bent over the path
like a string of beads.
December 13, 1858
Leather-colored leaves
seen against the misty sky
in this mizzling rain.
December 13, 1858
And now I first take
that peculiar winter walk,
sky under my feet.
December 13, 1859
I see that the fox
has already taken the
same walk before me.
December 13, 1859
It was a clear cold morning. December 13, 1852
My first true winter walk is perhaps that which I take on the river, or where I cannot go in the summer. December 13, 1859
It is the walk peculiar to winter, and now first I take it. December 13, 1859
Now that the river is frozen we have a sky under our feet also December 13, 1859
I see that the fox too has already taken the same walk before me, just along the edge of the button-bushes, where not even he can go in the summer. We both turn our steps hither at the same time. December 13, 1859
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 © 2009-2020
No comments:
Post a Comment