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 Daily Disruption Sun shines though yonder window box. I sit here attached to chatting socks. Both demand my attention. Meow. And then there's that. From 5 in the morning, every hour, what's with this cat? (He loves to be scratched.) A gentle breeze wafts though the room as I begin to type my daily doom... then Bang. I live in a place with paper walls, where friendly ghosts sip oolong tea... most quietly... while noisy people pace the halls. (We greet each other out of desperation.) Now my fingers clack against the keys: bang meow bang meow bang meow ... Drip....... Drip....... Drip....... (When will they ever get that eff-in' faucet fixed.) KE [177.25] (9.abril.2020) |