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 |
Bob Your face stares out from my sister's yearbook: soft eyes, brown hair, a steady look, the way we'll always remember you, fifty years after you crashed and died. I lied to myself that you were beyond me, that time would free me from your grasp. I gasped when I met you thirty years later, blond haired, a skater, not recognizing me, mesmerizing me still. I'm thrilled to have barely known you twice, like snow and ice that melts when touched. If only I could have touched your face. KE [177.18] (3.april.2020) |