With the first wink of sun escaping the cloud cover that had shrouded Boston, I stole a few minutes on Thursday to drive out to Walden to see the pond.
With every visit comes a new and unexpected flood of images.
I find this to be one of the most exciting aspects of visiting the pond in winter. I never quite know how she will feed my inner self, what will open in my soul and rush letters into words like a salt swell in my mouth.
So I allow myself to be open to the experience and wait to see what comes. I walk down the ramp and glance though winter bare trees at her spread as she is, silently waiting on the other side of the cyclone wire that separates us.
Broken Ice chops
Rivulets a running corridor of water
Ice keeling like a boat hull listing
Ice like ice popsicles rocking back and forth in the wind
Rafts of ice unmoored
Only the soul of walden
And the sun and the wind
And the frozen water
Groaning under the Weight of Winter