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 |
Daisies Lay down your bones in a pure-white field. Gaze at what has fallen from the stars. Gently count each pristine petal —he loves me, he loves me, he loves me— until relaxed you fall asleep. Dream of linen flapping in a breeze, stiff sails guiding you to ice-cold lands, warm snowflakes caressing dampened cheeks. Awake in a field of daisies. Drink-in the milk of your childhood. Be amazed by a field of white— petals caressing each cheek. © Kåre Enga (24.junio.2017) [174.154] /30:24.1/ |