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 |
Of change I was handsome once: tall, bronzed and hard as rock. I stood out among my kind, those who served without sleep, without a blink of eye. In my time I saw seeds become trees, cities rise, flourish and fall. The winds of change did not concern me, no more than the flutter of blue wings that often passed me by. Through ages the sun warmed my skin but not the heart they never gave me. It was no loss that I was never loved. Then, I was called on less and less, and arms and legs stiffened until I stood abandoned, unable to to move or bend, not even to pick up my fallen head. Now acorns drop on what remains and a mighty oak wraps its roots around me. In its shelter I watch blue wings, beg them to share the news that the winds have brought them. K Enga (6.juni.2017) [174.123] /30:6.2/ Prompt: 81.151 |