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 |
Parrots in Amsterdam or was it Istanbul? Tulips all the same... and pink daffodils. Purple cherry blossoms in Taipei and cosmos in Zhunan. The flame-of-the-forest vermilion above the unrelenting green in San José in winter... ...where you met one boyfriend but didn't abandon the others. Too much beauty to embrace in one short hour. How did one day turn into a week among the gardens of the Balkans, the marigolds of autumn gracing old stones in plots where bones long ago returned to soil. The Living and the Dead. You move between both worlds where sunlight urges you to make haste and nighttime begs you to rest. And what to make of the gossamer petals of poppies? How you migrate from one flower to the next. © Kåre Enga [176.xxx] (9.november.2019) |