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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
*Delight*          *Smirk*          *Yawn*

L'aura del campo


'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣


Higgins Street Bridge, April 25th  2009, Missoula, Montana


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*Flower2*V*Flower2* COMMENTS!

On a practical note, in answer to your questions:

Gifts from NOVAcatmando kiyasama alfred booth, wanbli ska ransomme Iowegian Skye

Merit Badge in Reviewing
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For your support and suggestions on my haiku "Lone Poinsettia" which took second place in the contest and will be published.  Thanks for helping make it a winning poem! Merit Badge in Nano Winner
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CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^* Merit Badge in Reviewing
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For help finding a title for my first chapbook.  We're not there yet, but your ideas are always interesting.
Merit Badge in Funny
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Merit Badge in Friendship
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Thanks for being my friend.

Hugz! 

grannym Merit Badge in Appreciation
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For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*


IN MEMORIUM

VerySara

passed away November 12, 2005

Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
More suggested links:

K.U. Campanile
These pictures rotate.



 Kåre *Leaf5* Enga
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish
June 7, 2017 at 12:43am
June 7, 2017 at 12:43am
#912649
Of change

I was handsome once:
tall, bronzed and hard as rock.
I stood out among my kind,
those who served without sleep,
without a blink of eye.
In my time I saw seeds become trees,
cities rise, flourish and fall.
The winds of change did not concern me,
no more than the flutter of blue wings
that often passed me by.
Through ages the sun warmed my skin
but not the heart they never gave me.
It was no loss that I was never loved.
Then, I was called on less and less,
and arms and legs stiffened
until I stood abandoned,
unable to to move or bend,
not even to pick up my fallen head.
Now acorns drop on what remains
and a mighty oak wraps its roots around me.
In its shelter I watch blue wings,
beg them to share the news
that the winds have brought them.

K Enga (6.juni.2017) [174.123] /30:6.2/

Prompt: 30-Day Image Prompt.


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