• • •

The sun leaks,
its rays dripping softly
onto the trees and into
the peaceful river.

Why? The sun asks,
as it waters the earth,
don’t the people
come witness my miracle?

The people,
too bashful for outside,
duck their heads indoors
and ignore the sun’s question.

And so the sun stays high,
lighting and bathing the earth
in a warm glow,
hoping the people will
change their minds.

But they are too dependent
upon the indoors,
and have grown fearful
of a warm bright day.

The sun, dejected,
weeps alone,
this time dripping its tears
upon the trees and into
the desolate river.

Tell me my darling,

why do you cry

even when it’s clear

that the sun has risen?

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