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 |
As pink as a pearled dawn Droplets slide down a clear shower curtain. A youth stands naked in shimmering steam, soaps skin as fragile as poppy wings, as pink as a pearled dawn in spring, untouched by searing sun that brings the drought, cold roaring winds that clear spent leaves off trees. Behind an opaque curtain—better to not peer too closely, better to mist mirrors to soften the ravages of tears. When chapped lips cry out in pain... better to pray for rain. © Kåre Enga [176.42] (14.abril.2019) For the Dew Drop Inn, prompt: rain. |