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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 |
| Sapeur-télégraphiste He ran the wires behind the lines that in the north of Africa defined hell-fire's divide of us and them. Communication brought spare comfort to the front of war, where barren back of brother tangled with cold wires, cooled silent in their coffins. He aspired to the Signal Corps, felt ired when his back was broken, retired to a family life, expired at the age of eighty-two, running out of time and wire beyond the lines dividing us, defining us in life's hell-fire. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [161.4] (21.mars.2004) Sapeur-télégraphiste: soldat du génie spécialisé dans les transmissions, avant que cette arme ne se détache du génie (1942). Signal Corps: The United States Army Signal Corps (USASC) is a branch of the United States Army that creates and manages communications and information systems. Original posted in "A day of joy or sadness."  and again in " 2019年5月27日: Make-peace-not-war-blog." : Sapeur-télégraphiste He ran the wires behind the lines that in the north of Africa defined hell-fire's divide of us and them. Communication brought no comfort to the front of war, where barren back of brother tangled with the wires, cooled silent in the coffins. He aspired to the signal corps, felt ired when his back was broken, retired to a family life, expired at the age of eighty-two, running out of time and wire beyond the lines dividing us, defining us in life's hell-fire. © Copyright 2004 Kåre Enga [161.4] (21.mars.2004) |
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much!
I just went with the flow. Could use a minor edit but I'm happy that you like it.
