Enga mellom fjella

As moss hugs a stone

As moss hugs a stone

A moss covered rock
sits by the side of my dreams
as life rushes off
to tumble downstream.
It rests, going nowhere,
always in shade;
the moss cloaks its hardness,
the cold of this glade.
A stone feels no pain
when the moss holds on tight.
This is its place.
What's left.
Its right
to claim as its own.
The moss clings for life.
The rock does not move.
The stream tumbles on
in a rush.

© Kåre Enga 2007 [164.449] 2007-12-31

ME

After a day of sunshine and bitter cold, I took the bus home. The trip was pleasant. Met a fellow traveler who has anxiety attacks; she seemed to calm down after an Army 'kid' who went to the same high school sat down next to her to chat. Small kindnesses do matter. Snyder was on his way back to Fort Knox, Kentucky before returning to Wichita, March 21st.

Also met a new grandma (she showed me the picture of her granddaughter born December 12th); she was on her way home to Ogalalla, Nebraska. Meet all kinds of folk on the bus.

Steve saw me off. We had a real good time. His grandparents are wonderful down-home kind of folks.

No real time to read blogs tonight. See y'all tomorrow.

Kansas: 14º and cold.

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