Enga mellom fjella

November mornings; Beth in Beijing

November mornings

He begins at dawn, before we yawn
at glistening windshields in the parking lot.
He spreads his breath to grace the tips of grass;
in lawns he nips the dandelions.
He sneaks beneath the shelter of the trees,
turning green flesh black; at last,
he finds the flower hidden under leaves.
For Jack Frost, royal knave of autumn, rules
until the Snow Queens blow and freeze.

© Kåre Enga 2007 [164.339] 2007-11-07

Okay ... we had our first killing freeze. The garden is toast. Cold toast. This is later than normal, so no complaints. By Sunday it may hit 70º, what some folks call "Indian Summer."

Soon it will look like this:



ME:

Okay. Same complaints. Nothing new or unmanageable today.

Beth in Beijing:

I went to hear Elizabeth Schultz, a professor emeritus who went to China on a Fulbright scholarship and taught American Literature (like Toni Morrison's Beloved) in Beijing.

About 100 crowded into the public library auditorium to hear her presentation of photos and poems called Being Beijing. It was wonderful. Some of her poems: The City Surrounded, Beijing Spring, The Good Earth, Beijing Taxi Driver, The Sweepers, No Foreigners Beyond This Point, Looking For Old Trees, Chinese Sages, Learning to Love Chinese opera, Chinese Exercises, Higher than a Kite, Chinese Landscape.

Some points that I remember: smog and traffic and yet old trees, willow brooms, three wheeled contraptions; outside, the children playing, adults playing 'Go', people exercising; televisions on constantly; the poor recycling everything; students meeting Beth in her 'office' at the coffeeshop; two hour classes that lasted 5 hours; no ants, spiders or even cockroaches; the student's fear of caterpillars and catkins falling from trees.

Kansas: 35º and sparkling sun.

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