Thoreau Country

             I

 (Cochituate Pines)

 Not since the temples

and shrines of Kyoto

have I seen such

mystic pagodas

reaching and spreading

with sacred incense

and glowing in slanting

sunrays that highlight their

own deep aura of

ageless yellow moss.

               II

   (Grass Waves)

Not surprising to see

waves of ripe grass

flow toward the sea

from high dunes of

beach plum and bayberry.

               III

(Cape Cod’s Own Thunder)

With its own thunder

Atlantic takes

a belly flop

far out on

Cape Cod to

startle me

back in the dunes

with storm fear

though no clouds

would confirm it.

              IV

 (The Maine Woods)

As soon as I enter

the State of Maine,

I can clearly imagine

Henry David Thoreau

going deep into the woods

through ferns and moss all aglow

in the forests of thick black spruce,

home of the truly mythic moose.

He wished to learn what the top

of a mountain has so far from

cities and towns and masses of

people. No, for Thoreau it was

the Penobscot Indian who

had so much to teach where

all of Nature lay within his reach.

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