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 |
Snowfall Ashfall Its hush silences the comings and goings of the restless, the clueless, the hurried. It divides those who pass among it, binds those who huddle in frozen fear. Its whiteness stares out through the half-light of dawn, softens the brightness of noon, twinkles by starlight, tinkles, almost unheard. Its hush... a life-giving restorer of poor soils. Destroyer of what struggles to live. Preserver of what cannot move out of its way, of what has come before. Dark clouds of death, grey film coating of Earth's lungs. Combined with moisture it flows in a deadly flash of steaming mud, cooling to replenish what gnaws at our feet. © Kåre Enga [3.decembre.2016] |