L'aura del Campo

Smoke signals

Smoke signals

Smoke.

It's a sure sign of summer barbecues,
of burning autumn leaves.
In winter it's a chimney fire,
in spring the charred prairie.

And here in home-sweet-Kansas,
where the buffalo never roam,
it's the blaze of your deep brown eyes
daring me to come home.

Ah,
where there's smoke, there's fire.
A sure signal of not living alone.

© Kåre Enga 2007 [164.215] 2007-08-29

IMAGE THIS!

Hey, I looked good yesterday! I really did and today, I got an 'aircut. Yep. Been years ... can't remember the last time. Malcolm cut it at the Amyx barbershop.

"Mondays at Munchies with Malcolm Miller till Midnite"

On Mondays Malcolm does donuts.

Heard outside of Starbucks: "Caffeine and nicotine, the everyman's diet.

I've been entering and editing poetic sketches from December 2005. Weird reading 'old' stuff.

And last night ... I had to cover up! Cool.

BLOGVILLE:

galinago is off teaching grad students or wrastling alligators. Same sport. And he is glad Alberto is returning to home-sweet-home Texas. Bye-bye, Baby Bush's Bertie!

PastVoices has had some time with Tara and that has restored her smile. She also has great pics of her good friend, Uncle Ron.

Now, charlesthec is expecting twins, but I wish he still had a blog!

I like Robert's BillW letters to Emily Dickinson. Just wish he'd write more often.

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