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! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
January before the thaw Sun shadows snowy paths as black outlines of pine a pattern ebony and ivory freeze this interlude before the melt when the rites of Spring crescendo from pianissimo to the croak of frogs. In this hush of glistening crystals, the stillness of a river encased in ice murmurs beneath our sight. Days of twilight lengthen as we trudge down paths, the only sound the crunch we make. Echoes cannot come back to us, bound by frozen air, lost in this season before rebirth. © Kåre Enga [15.january.2017] |