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 |
"No touching me, no touching you" This pandemic panic. Touching me, touching you. This insane influenza reaching out, touching you. Wash your hands, but do not touch me. Hands, touching hands, spread the flu to me and then to you. Want me to make you ill? Hold me tight. Kiss me one last time! Death comes tonight. Until this passes, blow me kisses from afar. No hands touching hands, I miss you. No reaching out, I miss you. no touching me, no touching you. © Kåre Enga (6.mars.2020) My quick response after listening to Neil Diamond sing "Sweet Caroline" (1971). The song included these words: Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you Yes, great song, known by millions, but not exactly good advice at the moment. 103,886 |