Clear and wintry cold
with a strong northerly wind –
the winter begins.
November 24, 1853
Some poets have said
writing poetry is for
youths only – not so.
November 24, 1857
Air so filled with snow
that we cannot see a hill
a half a mile off.
Looking toward the sun
the andromeda is a
very warm red brown.
November 24, 1857
looking from the sun
the andromeda is a
uniform pale brown.
November 24, 1857
Clear and freezing cold,
the beginning of winter.
Ice forms in my boat.
Cold and blustering –
ice has frozen thick in the
bottom of my boat.
Looking toward the sun –
the andromeda is a
very warm red brown.
Snow sugars the ground
to reveal a cow-path in
the distant landscape.
November 24, 2019
First sugaring of
snow reveals a cow-path in
the distant landscape.
White anemone.
How pretty amid downy
fruits of November.
 |
| November 24, 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 © 2009-2015
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