Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
A way in Faint ash and a cough— spare sign that all wasn't well— that the invisible could rob me of breath. Aloft grey clouds loomed ominous— a respite only for others... for me— short breath. Faint memory of smoke— how it lingers, permeates all with its touch. Fainter still... gnawed cardboard in a corner— small pellets. This too— like months you didn't answer— hope fading like smoke. How sorrow gnawed like mice— how it always found a way in— like wings seeking refuge in Autumn. © Kåre Enga [24.February.2017] |