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: "'heart's home'" ![]() "In Lagada, la vita" ![]() "A radiant moon has set" ![]() "Boise City" ![]() "Drugs sold here" ![]() Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" ![]() "Death of Jeannie New Moon" ![]() "Doing and don'ting. A scene in 2nd person." ![]() "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" ![]() "A Thanksgiving Dinner poem and the WDC Zoo" ![]() "Czernina (Dirk's-blood-soup?) and Murv Jacob's mural" ![]() FACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() PLACES ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Kåre ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
In God's Waiting Room we're attentive to each other; so, Willie invited us to join her for lunch. As a nurse she was used to serving others. The Swedish meatballs were soft, small, and brown with a creamy (but deadly) mushroom sauce. Sedated, Laxmi (our token vegan) nodded off first, then Kathi. I drank coffee to stay awake whilst Phil (a slow eater) seemed drowsy. Willie plopped meatballs. When Willie served cherry pie, Slow-Phil immediately dropped dead. Cyanide acts fast. Wille just laughed and then started to choke on a meatball. Too bad no one's left to help, I croaked. 100 words © Copyright 2024 Kåre Enga [181] (19.mai.2024) |