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 |
In the moment between OhMyGod and He's DEAD! you lean in to admonish his choice of clothes, murmuring, "How awful, no one should leave the house with mismatching socks". But two years later there you lie in a field, naked as a jaybird, the vultures gathered, beetles on their way. Four black birds sit on a snag, mutter among themselves, "No one should expose themselves like that on such a cold Spring day". They will wait their turn. You could've listened to Robert's last words, but you wouldn't have heeded them when you went out that morning. "Don't go out bare-footed," he whispered, "or you'll be next." today's meal— four ravens gather to pick bones © Káre Enga [176.10.gz] (30.march.2019) |