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 Look around. Let Nature nurture your Soul. I record images I sense and share them here. |
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NURTURE your NATURE  Nature can nurture our writing, can nurture our soul. What is the language of Nature? And how do we learn it? We look at the natural wonders around us and do not see them, hear, taste nor smell them. They do not touch us anymore than we dare touch them. And then we wonder why we feel so dead. To breathe in and live like a child again opens the Land of Wonderment. It's still there after all these years.   |
Sunshine He tried to enter the window, tried to get past the drapes, tried to wake me up. He failed. He decided to follow me around, shadowed my every step, waited when I went inside. He quailed. What can I do to make you notice? What can I do to warm your heart? What can I do? He — paused, exhaled. So I greeted him at dawn, met him in the yard high noon, watched him yawn in the west; I wailed, sunburnt. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.160] (23.juni.2021) 17 lines. Circa 85 words. Prompt: sunshine For
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| Heat Haze Sweat bees, and flies pouncing on our poulet, gath'ring tantes et oncles, a picnic curse in French. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.91] (22.juni.2021) poulet = chicken tantes = aunts (ants?) et = and oncles = uncles French = literal but also an allusion to "pardon my french" A bit of a jest for those who know both languages or took it in grade school, comme moi. Cinquino 2-8-6-4-2 PROMPT DESCRIPTION (You don't have to use all the words or include them in the poem): BEACH FUN, BUTTERFLIES, HEAT HAZE, SUNBATHE, BEES, PICNICS for
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| Serenade It's still not sunset. An hour after vesper bells ring, the quiet of heat and a limp flag define this end of day and the approach of summer. Under the light-blue bowl a few leaves flutter. It's late spring in Montana as green shifts its hue away from yellow. Below, the river roars from last week's deluge and surfers ride the curl of rapids. Few swallows dart and dive above them. Their life beneath the bridge has been disrupted, their homes for decades destroyed by new construction. They have moved elsewhere to dab their nests of mud and wattle. Next year they'll return to start anew. And come next June the flag will surely wave and green leaves flutter. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.112] (1.juni.2021) For
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| Before Fed-Ex Delivery Do not close you eyes, not even for a second. You have packages to deliver, a load of turnips and beets for the local market, a chicken to be roasted for tomorrow's dinner. The wind freshens. It carries the fragrance of linden in bloom. You must maintain the balance, hold on to the pole, allow the ripples to part before you, watch the waves as others pass, tranquility interrupted by their wake. You should never fall asleep whilst standing upright, as you slowly push forward. Your cargo, be it dead or alive, is precious. You must deliver it to the other side, wherever you wend. Some rivers bend and eddy; some lakes have potholes and rocks. There are always logs and snags that may block the way. Be wary of the willows, with their siren call and fingers that grab; ignore the beaver about its business, the trout that teases you, knowing you dare not pester it, lest you lose your balance as you pose like a balerino on demi-pointe. You've seen it all by now, smelled it all as fish guts and rotting algae swirl around you. The gentle motion rocks you as if to upend your plans like the time you hurried to make it home on time and didn't, soaked, your packages wet and almost ruined. You swore as the ducks laughed. You learned. You had to. Now older and — maybe — wiser, you take your time. 40 years of crossing here to there, there to here, one crossing at a time your father warned you. Geese honk above you on their way home, The fed-ex truck honks, stuck in traffic. You dare not turn your head, but cannot hide a smile. You will get home before they do. You must maintain the balance, allow the evening to part before you, the sunset mirrored in your memories of another time. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga, [178.101] (28.juni.2021) ~300 words Prompt: PUNTING ON THE RIVER taboo words: boat, water, punt, float, splash or any derivatives of these words. For:
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