Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
L'aura del campo
'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣
L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me.
PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS!
passed away November 12, 2005
Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
These pictures rotate.
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
|Keep your distance
White ashes fall from livid skies,
chilled children of faraway waters,
pile wherever they can find a perch.
Protected from wind, they drift like dunes
as cold seeks to invade my refuge.
Only glass panes divide those living
from the dead while I watch flakes dance,
then stealthily seek a warmer nook.
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.297] (26.desember.2021)
the bear snoozes — oblivious in its cave
I sit by the cold window — watching snowflakes
I sit on the toilet
thinking of today's meal
what comes out —
is yesterday's news
cold descends on mountains — settles in the valley
Thoughts — like snowflakes — rise and fall and wander
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.296] (26.desember.2021)
hiding from sunlight —
the cave-dweller lifts a book
sets it down again
when where how
why why why
sunlight sends tendrils
into his room — he cowers
in dark corners
© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.295] (24.desember.2021)