Enga mellom fjella

Salad bowl

Salad bowl

And the trip to the throne
is daubed with plaster,
strewn with dried remains of autumn's oak
and alabaster.
Porcelain thoughts
now thaw on sober seats of cool reflection.
The pristine rolls of soft ply paper
wipe away the wasted words.
The dingy dross remains outside
and the gush of rain,
a dash of sun and the rainbow swirl
of fresh tossed salad
that strove to kill us both
now's flushed.
Relieved,
we wend our royal way back through the throngs
at Aimée's Coffeehouse.

© 2008 Kåre Enga [165.21] 2008-04-12

ME:

Wrote another poem for Ranita. Gave poem I wrote for Sandy last week to her friend Marilyn and changed the title from "She rubs rocks" to "Older than dirt".

Managed to get out of the house and even remembered to mail a postcard of two moose to a friend (it was a card I got when I visited Montana). Some days the victories are small.

IMAGINE

First yellow coreopsis; golden iris; purple onion; white and yellow daisies; spearmint, lemon-mint, chocolate-mint, cat-mint crushed together with bitter yellow flowered rue.

Latté at Aimée's Coffeehouse (walls are mustard now instead of green):



Kansas: Calm at 00:00 and 63º.

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