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 |
Silly, but it's something that can be worked on, improved or discarded later. It's based on repetition of line and rhythm. The title can be changed. Nineteen crows Nineteen crows in nineteen trees calmly eating burgers. Nineteen crows in nineteen trees: each one cawing, murder! Nineteen hikers hear them call under trees they gather. Nineteen hikers under trees share their chips and laughter. Nineteen crows look down on them, nineteen heads keep nodding, choosing one to swoop on down, tell them: hush your natter. Nineteen hikers go their way. Nineteen crows will watch them. Nineteen hikers sing their songs till the mountains crush them. Nineteen crows in nineteen trees all exclaim, "so gruesome!" Fattened crows in nineteen trees roost in twilight's bosom. K. E. [177.7] (24.mars.2020) 103.970 |