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 | L'aura del Campo
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| 2006-01-07 before vespers, 56 degrees. 29 in East Aurora, NY. Spoke to Amy Barone. Her daughter, Scarlett Rose was born October 14th. Her older brother, Russell, 2, is happy. I'm sure there is a poem somewhere for her. Need more to go on. I'll have to ask Daddy Russ. People with broken teeth shouldn't eat nuts. These cashews I love to eat are killing me. SENSED Street musicians; gulls and pigeons; banjo; CN rail car; incense; river gauge at 12 1/2; big black dog (small bear). 2006-01-07 early afternoon, 56 sunny degrees. 36 in Tromsø, Norway. 81 in Texola, OK. Troms hasn't seen the Sun for a month. Won't for 10 more days at least. Garrison Keiller went there and wrote an article. It's in the Land of the Midnight Sun, but also in the Land of the Electric Lights. Nicer there than in Fairbanks (-12 degrees, which is mild). Got a letter off to a friend. The costs go up tonight. Saturday and the day for calling friends and family. No one calls me. I'm almost tempted to post my number here, just to hear some friendly voices! I guess I could send it out to some of the poets and we could read to each other. A poem on the page isn't the same somehow. (And my cell-phone calls are free to the US and Canada on weekends) Spoke to Brendan in Pennsy (28, and snowy) and to Judith and Earl in Oklahoma (57 and dry). Spoke to my Aunt Dot in North Carolina (warm). It's 81 in Texola where Hubb is from. They are under a severe fire alert. Windy, warm and dry. The skies are tear-filled in Kentucky. Jayhawks trashed the Wildcats 73-46 in basketball. (Nineteen points in the first half, UK? yuck.) I tried a form called Ya-du. This is a link to Bianca's explanation (works only for folks registered here) " Ya-Du"  . Found in "Poetry Forms" .It's premise is: xxxA xxAx xAxB xxBC xBxx(xx)(xx)(xx)C (varies 5 to 11) So, I came up with this sketch yesterday (that will need some work!). The title is provisional. Thoughts? A warning in black and white What of the snow? I don't know why gaunt crows gather, circling flurries now blurring my sight with their stories of impending doom. These singers of Spring snowstorms caw to arms, we who've charmed the drift of celestial freeze and thaw. Last Fall we prayed all bow and crawl before us, before crows found or brought this gathering of snow. [162.686] |
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