by Douglas Lanzo
Copyright 2021

First published in Nothing Divine Dies: The Poetry of Nature (Vita Brevis Poetry Anthology, III, December 2021)

I still recall the first time
I beheld Walden Pond.
It was a brisk September morning, many years ago,
the first year of college cross-country season,
when our team bus came to a stop
in an autumnal forest in Concord,
parking within eyesight of the replica
of Henry David Thoreau’s tiny chimneyed home,
overlooking the shores of a vast  lake. 

Gazing upon soft clouds,
my eyes tranquilly sailed with them
across its surface, smooth as fresh-blown glass.
It gazed back at me
with smiling radiance,
welling up from pure blue depths
of ancient wisdom,
a kettle lake,
settled by the weight of a glacier
pondering its beauty,
entire trees, robed in mapled red,
reflecting from its placid waters.

Suddenly aware of each breath,
I felt my lungs fill with forest air,
tinged by the scent of evergreens.
Something indescribable within me
became lighter, lifting with my chest,
awakening a longing for
something more simple and good.

When my coach bid those
suffering from ailments to
wade into the cool waters of
Walden Pond, I followed,
beckoned by the healing
I felt inside.