Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" Reader's Choice of Poems: "Sentinel" "In the midst of silence" "Tales told over scones and hot tea" "Speak soft my name" "Wheat penny" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." "ENFP, what are you?" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
...as in hush, quiet, still. meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee: I like silence. The sounds of Nature soothe but harsh human noises jangle my nerves. I prefer natural music to that which is man-made. Many times I sit in silence at home. The noises of the city are mercifully hushed and distant. I like it that way. When I want conversation or have a need to be with people I can easily find folks to be with. Like last night: went to lecture on poetry by a local poet, went to comedy act by traveling Native American group. That was enough. As a bonus I chatted with a young man from Bozeman who is a student of exercise science at UM. He also has Swedish roots and visited there this August. Wonderful chat. At home after a long walk in the damp? Silence. I leave the music and radio off. I have a TV for VHS tapes but didn't turn it on. I have no internet at home. Silence. It can be a good thing. |