Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
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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 L 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 ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
| The Fall Jack climbed up to the top of a tree, looked around to see what he could see. Saw his new neighbor up in the spruce, yelled out, so what's the gnus, old Man Bruce? Nary a monster out for a walk. Old Lady Lily as white as chalk. What did she say about the dead tree, the one they chopped down at half-past 3? Good riddance, she sighed, silly old goose, ugly old oak, no longer of use. Don't see a zombie out for a stalk. Nary a ghost with whom I can talk. © Kåre Enga [182] (29.novembrr.2025) 12 lines for November
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