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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 |
| Pomander Take an orange citrus globe and poke it full of cloves; let the fragrance fill you heart till it clots; next, take an apple.. Take a blue globe of water, add ribbons of highways, inhale clean air till exhaust makes you choke; next, there's no other... © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.23] (2.april.2021) For
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| Et voilà! And there I was looking at snow left over from winter, Lillehammer's ski-jump wrapping spring around its shoulders as flowers began to bloom in gardens, gasping when I saw you coming down full speed, lifting in the air like an eagle, soaring across Lake Mjøsa to a far-off place where you still breathe, one that smothered my breath long ago when you told me, "Et voilà!" © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.22] (2.april.2021) A memory of Lillehammer, Norway woven with thoughts for a friend. For
Og der så eg på snø som var igjen frå vinteren, Lillehammer hoppbakke pakket våren rundt skuldrene mine då blomster byrja å blomstre i hagen, gispet då eg så deg komme ned i full fart, løfter i luften som ein ørn, svever over Mjøsa til eit fjernt stad der du framleis puster, ein som kvalt pusten for lenge sidan då du sa til meg: "et voilà!" eller: Og der så jeg på snø som var igjen fra vinteren, Lillehammer hoppbakke pakke våren rundt skuldrene mine da blomster begynte å blomstre i hagen, gispet da jeg så deg komme ned i full fart, løfter i luften som en ørn, svever over Mjøsa til et fjernt sted der du fortsatt puster, en som kvalt pusten for lenge siden da du sa til meg: "Et voilà!" |
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