Standing in the Concord Library,
obliging the librarian when she
asked me to read to my students
the famed passage about "wildness,"
which I did, bushwhacking my way
up the forested slopes of Thoreau's
own handwriting, then two hours
later, a block away, through guile
and charm, convincing a stranger
to allow me into her home, to begin
a century's steep ascent to the attic,
to the garret, to his room, where
he sat over his desk and wrote,
"In wildness is the preservation
of the world."

Cloudy and raw outdoors,
it was sunrise all day in
Thoreau country.

October 26, 2006

All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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