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" "Where grows the compost heap" "Tales told over scones and hot tea" "For Jeanette ... when she grows old" "Willowsong" 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)" "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" "Tupac and more poetry" "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 |
Me: I may or may not do something for Thanksgiving. I don't like large crowds and I feel awkward at other people's events... So, we'll see. Next Monday is the big dinner at the Senior Center. Price is right but the crowds... I'm not a beach person. Don't like barefoot but sandals? I grew up preferring to walk in socks (on heated floors). I'm not a beach person 2: but I like walking along the beach collecting, observing, taking photos. I really need to send out some of my This and Every November chapbooks; but to whom? Who would like one? As in pig-out? Ribs for lunch. One main meal for $3 and I'm mostly satisfied. I get enough meat 5 lunches a week I really don't need anymore. I don't bake. As a child I made breadsticks and pies. It would be nice... It's been a wee milder here. Back east in Western New York they are getting clobbered. I'll probably call tomorrow to hear the stories. Big storms were an event when I was a child. We all had Snow Stories. |