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 |
Plumage Feather in my cap, I strut fast-forward and don't look back. As a river flows overhead; I open an umbrella, slog through the crap. When smoke signals sent from I-don't-know make me choke and fall apart, I blow my top like Yellowstone — an up-welling of magma from my heart. © Copyright 2022 Kåre Enga [179.61] (15.august.2022) Plume (prompt for Express it in Eight): a feather in my cap; a river flowing overhead; smoke signals sent from Idaho... an upwelling of magma from my heart. |