Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Queen of ice, sleet and slush Winter will not settle in. She's restless under her coat of ermine trim, keeps tossing it off to dance in the rain, then lets out her hair, tranced by the wind. She summons the sun. He obeys. They play. But the slush queen speaks out tormented, lashing with pricks of ice and pellets, dashing our hope and dampening grey days with despair. She seeks out autumn's touch, but finds him nowhere, wanders south to find her sister, The Promise of Spring, but no one's home, no one's there. She captures warm breezes to bring them up north. They escape as she blasts us with cold arctic air. Usually calm in her frosting, she's restless for sure. She's all the rage this fleet new year, ermine flopping, eyes zapping lightning, then thunder, then sleet. © Kåre Enga 2008 [164.483] 2008-01-29 ME: Visited Susan. Another good session, but different from the last. We have the 'Frog Hour' at 4:30; however, the weather is brutal. A touch of diarrhea makes the day poopy. Nightmares last night didn't help; but, there was one pleasant dream where a friend showed up. Wonder what he was doing at 2 am to 'disturb' my thoughts! Called today to ask. No answer. I found out yesterday that I'm going to be living next to a brewery. I don't even drink beer. I'm still feeling ill ... two things to do ... will I feel well enough? I'm going home. Kansas: 18º; windy bitter cold and flaky. 1991 |