a surfeit of human fruits yield their true flavor yet few
huckleberries plucked them. her three hills. ambrosial bloom
rubbed off.
the day the pond silent and motionless hummed a psalm of unbroken
harmony, more pleasing than speech. none to commune with.
raise the echoes with circling and dilating sound.
I have charmed the moon the ribbed bottom, strewed with dark
summer nights whistling a tune by the shore.
the woods the hours of midnight serenaded by owls the creaking note of
unknown birds dimpling the surface nocturnal dwelling
vibration very queer.
a clear and deep green well, two colors at least; the light follows the sky.
if agitated a dark slate color even from a uniform dark reflection,
its iris warmed by the still frozen middle a single plate of glass.
water of our river is black an alabaster whiteness more unnatural.
ashore I tossed a belt of smooth white stones a single leap water over your head;
and were it not bottomless pellucid who knows?
it is a gem in her coronet.
perchance the first one undulating unobscured hardly
distinguishable
incredulity in a secluded meadow risen steadily shed by the deep
springs. this fluctuation I have observed the disturbance occasioned
by their greatest height.
at long intervals the water asserts its title to a shore the lips of the lake
produce no fruit, an abundant crop.
as cold as pure as most water the luxury of ice.
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1. Source text from:
Thoreau, Henry D. Walden and On the Duty of Civil Disobedience. E-book ed, Project Gutenberg, 1995.
MICHAELA MAYER is a 25-year-old elementary school teacher and poet from Virginia. Her works have been previously published in Perhappened, Feral Poetry, Survivor Lit, Claw & Blossom, Barren Magazine, and others. She has poems forthcoming with Olit, The Lickety~Split, and Monstering Mag.
