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" "Glice" "Between us" "Speak soft my name" "Wheat penny" 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)" "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "Half-naked dreams? 'Getting the stain out of genes!" "James Doohan, Scotty. Ombra mai fu. Eutin Guitar Orchestra" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
me: It's snowing. Nice blanket of fresh white. Hides the ice... May snow until Monday or Tuesday. A big storm by Western Montana standards if it adds up to over a foot. We were at 130% snowpack in the mountains earlier this week. This bodes well for water through summer. Last year was extremely dry... about 70% of normal precipitation. All deviance from normal upsets people, it seems. We plan our lives based on "normal", on tomorrow being the same as yesterday. It isn't, of course. Those of us who had to be flexible while we were younger approach change with less alarm than others. And things change. Conservatives and traditionalists around the world face an uncertain future with fear. The oppressed face it with hope... in spite of apparent setbacks. They've been there before. In our personal lives, flexibility and openness is the key. It isn't always easy. I'll try to remember this in the coming year. My ability to remain/become open and flexible will most assuredly be challenged. Pray I'm up to the challenge as the snow piles up and again when it melts. |