L'aura del Campo

footprints swept away [338]

Do my ears ring? There is no knock at my door, no invitation to go out, no rhyme nor reasonto do anything at all. My bed warns me that I've worn out my welcome. My spine aches from this supine pose. I suppose I should rise up and greet the day, say, hurray for living! But that would be living a lie. I stay inside.

the city hushed — all
footprints swept away
by sifting snow

© Kåre Enga [177.338] (6.februar.2021)



Do my ears ring? There is no knock at my door, no reason to go out, no rhyme to do anything at all. My bed warns me that I've worn out my welcome. My spine aches from this supine pose. I suppose I should rise up and greet the day, say, hurray for living! But that would be living a lie. I stay inside.

the city hushed —
all footprints swept
by a sift of snow

KE [177.338]

sent on a postcard