Friday, December 18, 2015

A Book of the Seasons: December 18

December 18.

Surface so polished
I mistake it for water.
This the first skating.
December 18, 1852


The hard edge of the
western hills seen distinctly
through this clear cold air.
December 18, 1853

To walk through swamps where
great white pines grow and hear the
wind sough in their tops.
December 18, 1858




Various little
fishes lurking under this
thin transparent ice,
December 18, 1858
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

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