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We sat hooded up
against the cold,
under a cap of night so
black only starlight
dappled our heads, and waited
for Walden to awaken, and if you
blinked your eye, or a frog's
croak turned your
head left or right, you
returned to find a total stranger,
as if it were you who had died and
were re-born, or perhaps it was
the pond playing hide-and-go-seek,
running off a small boy
and, seconds later, returning
a young man, and everything
you thought you knew about
time, or night, or ponds proved no
more solid than the fog, all burnished
now, gilding Walden's
surface.
October 9, 2003
5:30 am