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 |
Limpan Sweet bread of my childhood not dark sour pumpernickel, nor a caraway-seeded poser, it was orange rind and dark molasses, pale rye mixed and molded, left to rise: Limpan. My Swedish family knew its proper name. Spread with butter, enough to keep hope alive that my roots hadn't withered and that someday I'd bake my own loaf of Swedish rye. © Kåre Enga (21.april.2019) [176.51] |