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 |
Cancer I'm not a fan of cancer, those cells that riot at the body's expense. I avoid the party crowd. I'm no anarchist. But one doesn't always choose one's enemies, and some appear first as friends. How they suck the life out of you! They only feed themselves. Better to be an elephant, part of a family that wanders together: nomads of the deserts, rumbles of the jungle. Everywhere is home. And there's no fear of cancer. Elephants don't get cancer. Not like my brother-in-law. © Kåre Enga (7.juli.2017) after speaking with my mother [174.170] |
Stray thoughts at breakfast Leg swollen old veins aching every step hurts think about something else the fragrance of night blooming flowers the splatter of rain on tin roofs a fly landing on my food my coffee's light and sweet the sky's filled with cotton-puffs and heat gathers on my bald spot I dart in and out where awnings provide some surcease on the way to the park as every step hurts © Kåre Enga (7.julio.2017) [174.169] in Pérez Zeledón |
Are we there yet? A few photos on the beach a waste of money if you march in and out and don't stop to breathe the heavy humidity my aching legs Blue/red harlequin crabs sloth in a tree mapaches prowl a pizote steals a bag of sandwiches cara blancas groom each other one eats an iguana lizards pose and watch us hermit crabs scuttle through leaf litter and fallen fruit non-edible, toxic you eat one silly the exit's blocked we retrace our steps walk slowly Are we there yet? stone drive raised boardwalk my aching legs force me to sit you prop me up Can you carry me? you smile make sure I'm okay Are we there yet? © Kåre Enga (4.julio.2017) PN Manuel Antonio [174.168] with Brian Nuñez. |
Los gatos de Grecia... ...one runs, one purrs, one plays with the hands then bites. Hands smell of food or serve to scratch an itch or move like mice. They know that a lap's a warm place to rest. Don't move. They're our familiars, we their servants. These are the rules. One jumps, one slinks away, with a flash of paws, one meows. © Kåre Enga [174.167] Grecia, Costa Rica (1.julio.2017) |