Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" ![]() ![]() Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" ![]() "Glice" ![]() "In search of Iris" ![]() "Boise City" ![]() "Willowsong" ![]() Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" ![]() "Death of Jeannie New Moon" ![]() "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" ![]() "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." ![]() "Footprints in the snow, in memory of Nyia Page" ![]() "Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art." ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
Sheldon grabbed Cassie. They ran as fast as they could. If they were late they wouldn't be fed. They hadn't eaten yesterday. Late again. Nothing but bread was left. But it would keep them alive for one more day. They walked back through the unkempt park past the pond. Three ducks greeted them, begging. They had it tough too. Geese had gleaned cornfields before the overseers had burnt everything, leaving ashes. Sheldon broke off pieces of bread, tossed them to the ducks, whispering, you deserve better than this, then took Cassie's hand and guided her to their hidden tent. 57,900 |