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 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  V COMMENTS!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  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
| She entered the plastic display next to the Jade Museum. It was the brightness that dazzled Tanya as she hugged herself. She thought she'd floated above the clouds or that the clouds had come down to earth in their fluffiness to sparkle and wink at her. And maybe she had. There was a penguin and a bear (stuffed of course). Neither were found on the dirty streets of San Jose or the dusty paths of her village outside of Cartago. This appeared almost clean as if the rains had cleansed it then had frozen solid to the ground like the inside of her mother's fridge. Was this how it was up north? She doubted it. Her cousins in New Jersey never mentioned bears, and they would have as they constantly teased her how life there was so much better. Her uncle in Pennsylvania cheered for the Penguins but they were a hockey team... whatever that was. Her cousin Jorge gave up trying to explain, finally saying that it was like futbol except with sticks and skates and... She never did understand. Here, it was the season when pastores bloomed and setting out the posada, the time to eat tamal de cerdo and watch the fireworks announcing a holy birth and then again bringing in a new year. She hugged herself, mesmerized and unwilling to leave just yet. The lights played off of the frozen crystals. Better than the fake plastic ones found a few blocks away in China Town. What was winter like in China? Her Chen and Coto families didn't know. 5 generations of barely making a living on the volcanic slopes of Irazú had erased all memories, except "there are palm trees there too" they said to remind her that everywhere the grass was still green, just like it was outside her window. Was it still green when frozen? She rubbed her arms and turned to leave. Ah... but the bright scene sparkling all around her made her pause. Someday she would visit her cousins for the holidays and find out for herself. © Kåre Enga [177.302] (31.diciembre.2020) 346 words ... more or less... for
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