How admirable
it is that we can never
foresee the weather.
What measureless joy
to know nothing about the
day that is to dawn!
This day yesterday –
incredible as any
other miracle.
The melted snow forms
large puddles and ponds, and
runs in the sluices.
The reflected sky
and water are dull dark green,
but not the real sky.
*****
December 29, 2022
How admirable it is that we can never foresee the weather, — that that is always novel ! December 29, 1851
What a fine and measureless joy the gods grant us thus, letting us know nothing about the day that is to dawn! December 29, 1851
Yesterday nobody dreamed of to-day; nobody dreams of tomorrow. December 29, 1851
This day, yesterday, was as incredible as any other miracle December 29, 1851
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
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