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 |    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 L  V 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 |
| Do my ears ring? There is no knock at my door, no invitation to go out, no rhyme nor reasonto do anything at all. My bed warns me that I've worn out my welcome. My spine aches from this supine pose. I suppose I should rise up and greet the day, say, hurray for living! But that would be living a lie. I stay inside. the city hushed — all footprints swept away by sifting snow © Kåre Enga [177.338] (6.februar.2021) Do my ears ring? There is no knock at my door, no reason to go out, no rhyme to do anything at all. My bed warns me that I've worn out my welcome. My spine aches from this supine pose. I suppose I should rise up and greet the day, say, hurray for living! But that would be living a lie. I stay inside. the city hushed — all footprints swept by a sift of snow KE [177.338] sent on a postcard |
| ** Image ID #2242444 Unavailable ** Lion in the night O Lion, Lion in the night your psychodelic colors gave us fright and made us wonder what drugs you took to bring forth light — or were you painted thus, O Lion, Lion in the night. © Kåre Enga [177.337] (6.februar.2021) ** Image ID #2242273 Unavailable ** Supercell What's here wasn't here a century ago, and in minutes will not be here again. The humble servant bows to this, sees resurrection rising from destruction of what once was. For all exist just moments or millennia, a hundred years, a minute of lust — that bursts upon the plains of Nebraska to leave just us. © Kåre Enga [177.326] (6.februar.2021) ** Image ID #2242221 Unavailable ** Winter's flame This day fades from black to black-and-white to white-on-white until you flit, a flame that now ignites the warmth of embers glowing in remembrance of first sight. © Kåre Enga [177.335] (6.februar.2021) |
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). That said, use what the Muse gifts.