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" ![]() "In Lagada, la vita" ![]() "Tales told over scones and hot tea" ![]() "For Jeanette ... when she grows old" ![]() "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)" ![]() "In a garden of roses, baby" ![]() "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." ![]() "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 |
Thinking of Cubby's June prompt for "Chapter One" ![]() ![]() Waiting for Jack Forgotten among the faded-to-sepia zoysia, all color drained after Summer fled south... one lone baseball faces the coming cold and Jack Frost's arrival. Will Jack want to play ball? silence on the field — a round object hidden by bleached out grass Kåre Enga [180.52] (3.juni.2023) I wonder whether I could make this go somewhere? ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() 58.496 |