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 Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| Quiet after the storms Silence deafens after the storm until the wren sounds the all clear; all life thrills to their trill of joy: we live we live we live — we have survived. In the hush after the beating: the sound of steps walking away; they are heard through the tears, noted with a sigh, they will live — for one more day. The old oak has withstood the rain, a century of wind; today it rests in the bosom of mud that it once reigned over — gone with the storm. New headstones state that here they lie beneath the grass that greener grows, where no signs need proclaim with words: safe-at-last safe-at-last — do not disturb. © Kåre Enga [182.22] (12.april.2025) 20 lines Prompt: safety. Too abstract. What does safety sound like? Steps walking away? The silence after the storm? 122.773 |
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