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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  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: "'heart's home'" "Glice" "Between us" "I, Katrina" "Starbeams on Tulsa" 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)" "Even in chaos ... More hockey poems." "Holy day. Autumn in November. A mole." "James Doohan, Scotty. Ombra mai fu. Eutin Guitar Orchestra" FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| The trickster quietly entered the burrow by way of its exit, plainly marked EXIT. He didn't expect to catch Mr Badger at home. The word in the woods was that he was away visiting his niece. "Come sit with me awhile. I'll put on tea." The intruder wrapped his tail around himself and decided it would be best to just sit on the proffered pillow and not ask questions. And... it was raining outside. "It's... nice and cozy in here." "Yes, Beatrix likes it that way." He noticed a small frame hanging over a writing table. "Is that... ?" "Here's your cup. It's a tad hot. Sorry." "If that's Miss... well she owes me a story." "How so?" "I remember her watching me by the Chicken Coop taking notes." "Do tell." "You sound amused. No. I wasn't counting chickens. I only eat mice... now and then... and an occasional..." The front door opened and in walked Miss Potter herself. "Good evening Mr Badger. Mr Grahame is visiting and I wondered whether you could lend us some honey. Tommy Brock stole all of mine." "Certainly." "Ahem... Mr Tod... Still upset about that story I didn't write?" "I wasn't stealing chickens." "I know. While you were counting chickens I was counting mice." If a smile could kill, the wily fox thought. "Counted three times. Thankfully none were missing." Mr. Badger brought a jar of honey and a steaming cup for Miss Potter. The silence was deafening. "I've finished my tea. Time to Go." Mr Tod nodded to Mr Badger and Miss Potter and quickly departed through the front door, plainly marked ENTRANCE. "You are smirking, Beatrix." "Yes, I feel the urge to write." © Kåre Enga (21.februar.2025) |
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