Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
![]() ![]() ![]() 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 |
Keep your distance White ashes fall from livid skies, chilled children of faraway waters, pile wherever they can find a perch. Protected from wind, they drift like dunes as cold seeks to invade my refuge. Only glass panes divide those living from the dead while I watch flakes dance, then stealthily seek a warmer nook. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.297] (26.desember.2021) For
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A the bear snoozes — oblivious in its cave I sit by the cold window — watching snowflakes [296a] B I sit on the toilet thinking of today's meal what comes out — is yesterday's news [296b] C cold descends on mountains — settles in the valley Thoughts — like snowflakes — rise and fall and wander [296c] © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.296] (26.desember.2021) |
A hiding from sunlight — the cave-dweller lifts a book sets it down again [295a] B when where how Oblivion responds why why why [295b] C sunlight sends tendrils into his room — he cowers in dark corners [295c] © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.295] (24.desember.2021) |