Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Dawn finally wakes up Dressed in yellow silks and frills, she yawns under soft grey covers, stretches out pink feeble arms, rises slow as molasses as the land clamors her name, Dawn, Dawn, on this cold winter day. She peeks out from behind mounds of blankets and waves to the peeks in the distance, snow clad and blushing. Far western farmlands sigh in relief. The river rumbles its daily discontent. With one glance she looks down and all turns to sparkles. Nice of you to wake up, says the old grumpy valley, late as usual on a cold winter's day. snow peaks dawn in Missoula pink cheeks © 2009 Kåre Enga [165.431] 2009-02-03 I knew the sun was hiding behind the mountain. It was too light out there. But the rays didn't hit here until after 9. We get so little sunlight here in the valley between normal winter gloom, inversions and short days. The mountains make them shorter. But the sun is up and shining now. Written just this past hour. Blah Blah Blah: I'm reading Nightshade by Susan Wittig Albert. I like her China Bayles series placed in the Hill Country of Texas; although this one is different. Last night before going to bed I was 'day-dreaming' (thinking, spaced-out) in Spanish about going back to Costa Rica. I really need to do that. Don't remember what I dreamt though. I'm barely awake after being up for an hour. Had my cocoa and baguette already. Montana: 22º at 9:00 11,475 |