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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 |
| Frayed The Sky's hem unravels. First the golden thread, then the scarlet, leaving only indigo and puce. Night's curtain descends, a charcoal shroud with pinprick holes, as frayed edges dim. All bow to the New Moon's ebony as the Void's brighter shade fills the silent air, as thick blankets of clouds move in and smother hope with despair. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.327] (21.januar.2022) 15 lines |
| Sunrise mirrored in the buffalo's eyes To see sunrise mirrored in the buffalo's eyes, glinting off the flooded fields where thin blades of grass wait for a breeze to bring it news. The morning's traffic sings the market's dawn song, those precious moments before the day warms up, as it has for hundreds of years. The monkeys nod. The buffaloes know. The elephants too. They tried to slow down the two-legged ones who scurry among them. They gave up centuries ago. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.316] (18.januar.2022) 15 lines |
| Rice fields when I was young and my body bent like a young green blade and my arms were strong and my fingers nimble as I planted the sprouts that would flourish with rains that once ripened and gleaned would nourish our bodies till the end time came leaving only stubble and now as I tire as the sun retires too tired perhaps yet my heart full of joy and I open my lungs and sing of deeds done to the glow of the fireflies dancing © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.320] (20.januar.2022) 19 lines |
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much!
I just went with the flow. Could use a minor edit but I'm happy that you like it.
