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 |
A pitter-patter of nothingness You splashed water at me while I read, wetting the book, stoking my flames begging me to rise like a thunderhead, to hailstone all hell on your games. And I do, over and over again, old man. It's been too many years, decades it seems since the drought of words began. This silence between us screams. I listen to the drip-drip of the faucet, wind lashing rain on the window panes. Do I ever value a gift till I've lost it? I will never forget your name. A pitter-patter of lost opportunities. A pitter-patter of soft gentle rain. A pitter-patter that leaves the earth thirsty. A pitter-patter of nothingness bringing pain. KE [177.48] (23.april.2020) Inspired by: SB Musing 104.133 |