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 |
I dream Montana Clouds glower at mountain ridges; stop, then lift their veils of rain and pass. Pine welcomes mist while blades of grass green yet through all this I somehow know: I'm dreaming Montana. Open meadows, thunder of hooves, howls from the bowels of canyons, woods. Not gone, but fading as moon-filled nights fade at dawn-light where the buzz of a billion deeds not done, still wait. Why drown this dream with human plight? In my bed I close my eyes. Unseen, I dream Montana. © Kåre Enga 31.agosto.2014 Oh, if I were Russell (the famous westerner) today... |