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 |
Nancy at the Winter Market A red cardinal perched in her hat that day. Should we have avoided her? Could we have? No one can avoid an artiste resplendente expressing herself. The air wrapped around her as if summoned. Call her a crone. Won't matter. All roads lead her way. The way she had embraced her magic at age Sixty. No need for excuses. No time for apologies. Art flowed through her. Last week a chicken sat on her head. Nancy had a way with silk leaves and feathers. Steam-punk pumped through variegated veins; and yet, she was alive, wrinkles and all. No excuses. No apologies. Call her Crone. She accepts the honor graciously, laughter crinkling 'round the myriad facets of her eyes. © Kåre Enga (2.diciembre.2018) edited since 95.981 |