I see a lichen
on a rock in a meadow --
a perfect circle.
Of all the John-Smiths
there has been one true John Smith.
He of course is dead.
November 15, 1851
Clear yellow light of
the western sky reflected
from the smooth water.
I see the track of
a fox and in the wood-path
a man and a dog.
The buds and twigs and
the mazes made by twigs and
the silvery light.
November 15, 1858
November buds and
the mazes made by twigs, and
the silvery light.
November 15, 1858
The clouds were never
more fairly reflected in
the water than now.
Clear yellow light of
the western sky reflected
in the smooth water.
The clouds were never
more fairly reflected in
the water than now.
 |
| November 15, 2016 |
*****
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
No comments:
Post a Comment