Enga mellom fjella

Joy gives us wings. "This morning in Venice"

Joy gives us wings. Which may make some of you wonder whether the juice I drink is fermented or not! It is not. True joy isn't a forced smile and like I told Anna Lisa in her blog, smiles are wonderful, but must be sincere. Folks can tell. Today I'll try to smile a lot; it is a beautiful day.

This morning in Venice

I love this place on calm summer days.
Naked masts point to the sky
and the haze
opens the morning.
There are people to ferry
and goods to load off.
The white of the buildings
and the pink of the dawn
reflect on the greenish ooze of our lifeblood.
Vendors gather in plazas
while I sing pizzicato
in the voice of a boy,
"May all life be a calm summer morning",
then burst out in joy.

© 2009 Kåre Enga [166.31] 2009-04-10



I wrote this for my Monday class on ekphrastic art. The painting is Turner's Venice, from the Porch of Madonna della Salute, exhibited 1835: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/7d/Turner,_J._M._W._-_The_Grand_... My poem, along with a rough Italian translation can be found in my Poetry Journal: "166.31 This morning in Venice; Questa mattina a Venezia"  and you may comment there if you like.

blah-blah-BLAH-blah-blah:

Friday: Got up early, but faded in the afternoon. It's bad when I get confused doing a sudoku. Met Victor, born in 1913, at Butterfly Herbs; he was sharing an ice cream with his granddaughter.

Later, after going to the library and watching the Belgian movie "Eldorado", went to The Break, did a sudoku (no prob) and wrote 5 poetic sketches. Was it the tuna sandwich that helped? I dunno.

Notes from my walk along the river: dog poop and kids cleaning the dog poop; orange branches; lime twig tips; dry irrigation ditch; expectant clouds; fragrant fronds of yarrow, fresh and soft; fuzz of a feather caught on an alder bud; bark stripped by a beaver, wood chips scattered around; geese on a sandbar; geese in the river; the roar of the river; a black and white dog carrying a pine cone like a ball; plaque of a gifted ponderosa; two tree trunks rubbed and fused together; lamppost #99; guitar singing out on the lawn; girl in a fuschia-pink blouse holding a red spade. My weak-sun shadow leading me across the Orange Street Bridge.

Saturday: may have popped my shoulder out ... and back in again. I've always had weak shoulders, so a tad of concern. I wonder whether a few of my physical issues come from being malnourished as a child. Then again, there is no one to ask. My mother doesn't speak of unpleasant things.

I saw buttercups and yellowbells on my walk along the river today!

Went to Dombrowski's reading set up by "New Lakes". There had to be 50 crowded in Shakespeare & Co. He still didn't read my favorites, "Boreal" and "Direction", though.

Sunday morning burst out in sunshine. May even get warm.

BLOGVILLE:

Condolences due for ransomme; read "Invalid Entry" 

Montana: 51º at 11:00

johnny-jump-up forsythia chinodoxia grape hyacinth daffodils iris crocus hyacinth dandelion bluebird tulip yellowbells primrose pansy buttercup scilla

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