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 |
Throw me a thread I've followed crumbs —— in order to find you but crows get there first, won't show me the way. Pines say they know —— their whispers fade out in the calm at the end of the day. I arrive at your doorstep —— twenty years late. I knock —— and only hear echoes of laughter. I want to join in but windows are shut, doors locked, bones hanging from rafters. I am lost in your labyrinth, caught in your web, pricked by roses —— pruned to leave thorns. To show the way in, throw me a thread I'll wait here —— ravaged and torn. KE [177.41] (19.april.2020) |