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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
*Delight*          *Bigsmile*          *Wink*

L'aura del campo

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣


Higgins Street Bridge, April 25th 2009, Missoula, Montana


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 L*Flower2*V*Flower2* COMMENTS!

On a practical note, in answer to your questions:

Gifts from NOVAcatmando Author Icon kiyasama alfred booth, wanbli ska Author Icon ransomme Iowegian Skye Author Icon

Merit Badge in Reviewing [Click For More Info] For your support and suggestions on my haiku "Lone Poinsettia" which took second place in the contest and will be published. Thanks for helping make it a winning poem! Merit Badge in Nano Winner [Click For More Info] CONGRATULATIONS on your achievement! *^*Bigsmile*^* Merit Badge in Reviewing [Click For More Info] For help finding a title for my first chapbook. We're not there yet, but your ideas are always interesting.
Merit Badge in Funny [Click For More Info] Merit Badge in Friendship [Click For More Info] Thanks for being my friend. Hugz! grannym Merit Badge in Appreciation [Click For More Info] For brightening my day with your delightful offerings ~ Thank you so much! *^*Heart*^*


IN MEMORIUM

VerySara Author Icon

passed away November 12, 2005

Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings.
More suggested links:

Murv Jacob's rendition of Cherokee Legend: the founding of Tahlequah
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 Kåre *Leaf5* Enga
~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,
The Fish
April 27, 2020 at 7:26pm
April 27, 2020 at 7:26pm
#982221
Fire in the woods

Four words of dread

as lodgepine flames
and underbrush burns.

The distant fires
send smoke signals to warn us:
fire in the woods,

where flare ups
coalesce and devour
what lies in between
combining forces
in a wall of heat
racing east

burning what lies in its path.

We hear news from China,
fairy tales of a fiery foe.

But from afar: too foreign,
not us, not US;
we brush them off
as some fantasy.

Do we ever heed smoke signals,
the lightning strikes,
the looming black clouds
that seek to consume us.

Do we wait too long then flee
with only what we have on,
leaving our life behind

as blinded, mankind
buries its apprehensions
as comprehension dawns
in ash,

as piles
of Mardi Gras masks
catch fire,
all good intentions
neatly stacked
on the funeral pyre.

KE [177.53] (27.april.2020)


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