Wednesday, April 27, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: April 27.


The spring of the world
flowers first followed bare rock –
so too spring this year.

Through warm mistiness  --
waters with their reflections
in the morning sun.  

I hear the partridge
and the spring hoot of an owl 
now at 7 a.m.

Hear a partridge drum
before 6 A. M., also
golden-crested wren.
April 27, 1855

True April morning–
  east wind, the sky overcast 
with wet-looking clouds.
 April 27, 1857

It has been so cold
I have not been able to
catch a single frog.

Little brown snake with 
the light line along the back 
just killed in the road. 

There is a certain
summeriness in the air
under this warm cliff.


April 27, 2021

Spring hoot of an owl
and beat of a partridge, now
at 7 a.m. –

an unprofaned hour
waters with their reflections
in the morning sun.

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 © 2009-2021

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