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 |
Twilight in Troms Greys swirl before shaded eyes that search for light. Dawn promises nothing. Skies brighten to silver, fade to charcoal within the hour. White slivers on bleak peaks and black ice remind her she's alive. She dances through a fog of frankincense, embraces red candles, sips amber. In her tiara, she banishes the winter dressed in blue, yellow, green. She dreams of purple and her dimming memories of Autumn, hails approaching Spring. Greys swirl past her eyes. And then—a glimpse of indigo remembered. all grey one shaft of indigo © Kåre Enga [6.avgust.2016] Written in Costa Rica but thinking of Cecilie Liv Moe in Troms. |