Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" Reader's Choice of Poems: "Zmitri" "Glice" "Tales told over scones and hot tea" "Speak soft my name" "Wheat penny" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "In a garden of roses, baby" "A Thanksgiving Dinner poem and the WDC Zoo" "Czernina (Dirk's-blood-soup?) and Murv Jacob's mural" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
...a long long time. Me: So worn out. Happened last year at this time too... or was that the last two years? The Montana Festival of the Book is about to begin and I need to be focused and twinkle-toed to get to events. And I have no energy. Like today... just want to take a nap. Weather is lovely. Color-change under blue skies. Brilliant. And me? Not so bright. I did manage to apologize to a friend, but he didn't know why I was apologizing so I let it go. And my sister called (she never calls) to tell me our mother was in hospital (medication screw-up). I talked to a cousin and managed to call my aunt without her sensing something was wrong with her sister (gold star for that; there'll be time to call and explain this weekend). All of this drained me. Oh, I did get to a couple gatherings this week. Not today. I may not even go this evening when my writing group gathers... and I should. No physical energy and emotionally I'm whack. And I'm yawning... |