L'aura del Campo

Letter written on the bus west of Kellogg

"The only deer I want in my crosshairs is you, dear." A text message I was tempted to send if response to "did you get your deer?".



Letter written on the bus west of Kellogg

I am on my way to Kellogg
reading a tome about Real Bird's moon.
No Idaho-moon that I can see.
Maybe it's behind high mountains
hiding out somewhere in eastern Montana
where the Crow and Real Bird sing.

On the way past this ski resort I know
there's snow on the peaks
and soon the Season of Ice you seek
will be here to stay,
not mere puddle-crust I crushed
this morning running from the moon and the dawn
westbound to Spokane.
Now I'm headed back towards you,
you who always hide from my view,
behind icy peaks, so like a dark frozen moon.

© Kåre Enga 2010-11-10 [167.279]



Was reading Henry Real Bird. Was on the bus. Was thinking of a dear friend back East. Winter is on its way here in the North West.

Note: I haven't been posting and editing much, but I AM writing. Still ahead of my yearly goals. Just shared the old and newly revised "Hummingbirds" with Jeremy who I wrote it for...



Just finished reading Henry Real Bird, our Montana poet laureate. Read Fallein, Brant and Czury this past week. Very good for me to read poetry.

40 degrees and cloudy with glimpses of sun.

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