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 |
There comes a softening... ...to ice cream treats on Summer Sundays (sweat from heat) melting into blouses splashing onto shorts, dropping to the pavement drip by drip the sticky fingers licked by the neighbor's dog. © Kåre Enga [171.N1] There comes a softening... ...to the neeps when steamed or roasted, heaped upon my plate, completes the feast of Sunday's Yorkshire pudding. © Kåre Enga [171.N2] There comes a softening... ...to politics when two opponents rest and chat about their family battles, won or lost, and how no matter what was planned or plotted the war surprised and life went on —or not. © Kåre Enga [171.N3] There comes a softening... ...to rubber bands when old and stretched before they snap —worn out. and to knees that once climbed oaks when willed to stoop —no longer bend. © Kåre Enga [171.N4] Note not sure whether ... or — is better. 78,757 |