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 |
February 14th prompts for "EXPRESS IT IN EIGHT " ![]() Jim Jimson He burst forth from the weed patch, losing speed with every second as friction wore him down. It was hard being a jimsonweed, too touchy, too explosive, they all said. But he was who he was as he landed on soft mud. He'd show them! Next summer he'd do it all over again. Prompt: velocity © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.364] (14.februar.2022) Lines never meant Shorelines shifted with each high tide as palms held off at a distance; but, change comes, even to those who tarry. The moon had seen it all through centuries. Rivers wandered. Mountains eroded. Glaciers came and went. But humans insisted on boundaries that were never meant. Prompt: boundary © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.365] (14.februar.2022) Nit-wits The glacier descended like a ski slope, icy tongued rimmed by rocks, ending at a cliff that tumbled into blue-green waters carrying the mountain's grit. Men tried to scale its slopes, slipping every time. It spared no time nor tears for nit-wits. Prompt: slope © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [178.366] (14.februar.2022) |