A Book of the Seasons: March 31

March 31

Migrating sparrows 

all bear messages 

that concern my life — 

the sparrow 

cheeps and 

flits and sings

adequately

to the great design 

of the universe

but man does not

understand 

its language —

he is not 

at one with nature. 

March 31, 1852 

Distant mountain top
as blue to the memory
as now to the eyes.
March 31, 1853

Trust your fine instinct. 

Come very near questioning --

but do not question.

March 31, 1854

A new lease of life
(the change is mainly in us) --
first warm day in Spring.
March 31, 1855

Tops of white maples

nearly a mile off downriver --

last year's lusty shoots.

March 31, 1856

Voice of the peepers
not of the earth earthy as
of the air airy.
March 31, 1857

Earliest butterflies
seem to be born of the leaves
on the forest floor.
March 31, 1858

Dark cloud rises --
windy afternoon ends with
a flurry of rain.
March 31, 1859

Small red butterfly
and the distant note of a
solitary toad.
March 31, 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 © 2009-2018