• • •

“The had believed in literature, had believed in Beauty and in personal expression as an absolute end. When they lost this belief, they lost everything.”

-Nathanael West, Miss Lonelyhearts

I sit down to

the beat of rain

drop, drop, dropping

all around me. I can’t seem

to move. Something is keeping me

from trying.
I hold out my hand, letting

every raindrop drown my

freezing fingers.

I cry, and as I do my tears

melt my skin, which

subsides into a puddle

beneath my shivering

toes.

Something motivates me and

I look up. There you are,

out of nowhere, reaching for

me. Helping me.

Guiding me. In your eyes

I find the light, and I realize

it’s a beautiful day.

Thoreau describes the serene beauty of the forest where he lives in pages sixty through eighty.