A Walk in the Woods

I'm sitting in the basement of the library beside the wall of windows that is so distracting but so wonderfully sunlit and warm.
For an American Literature paper, I have to imagine that Edgar Allen Poe and Ralph Waldo Emerson go for a walk in the woods. I have to imagine what they would talk about.
I think, being in the woods, they would talk about nature.
Ralph would look at the beauty and the perfection and the light drifting among the tops of the trees. He would say something along the lines of: "I went into the woods and I felt, you know, sort of religious."
Edgar would see the trees as ominous and looming. He would comment on the mystery of the forest, a darkness that he couldn't quite explain.

And I, a mere observer on this extraordinary hike, would wonder how the woods came to be. I would wonder who had meandered through them for the first time, and why. I would check over my shoulder for bears, and occasionally trip over protruding roots. I would see the beauty in the branches outlined in navy blue. Finally, I would grow nervous as the sun set and the night gently dropped herself down over everything.

And then, leaving Edgar and Ralph to their discussion, I would hurry back home, pour myself a glass of orange juice, and blog about the woods I'm imagining in the library.