Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Old friends Fires burn, as time consumes, as fabric rots to black. Love won't grow back once embers fade to ash. © 2008 Kåre Enga [165.221c] 2008-08-25 An old cinquain from August ... edited ... finally. BLAH BLAH BLAH (I never shut up ...): I don't text, but I got a message from Gaston (still in Bolivia?). There are good people that I miss. Gaston is good people. Ruth called from Kansas at 2 a.m. She was hoping to leave a message but I was still awake and answered. Robert called this morning, which was good because I needed to get up and off to brunch. Sat with Myrt and Dalton at the brunch provided by the Freelands and extended family. Finally got to meet John-boy's partner Shane. (A mixed marriage ... Swedish/Norwegian : limpa vs. lefse; sill vs. lutefisk) Yesterday I got to the store and bought two of the basic food groups: chocolate and coffee. At the bakery I picked up cardamom bread. I'm sure my Swedish ancestors thanked me with every bite I took. MILLSTONES and MILESTONES: I managed to set up my on-line book of poetry sketches so I can start entering the one's I wrote in August. I am so far behind! The hysterical part of the evening was searching for the citron colored notebook they were in. It was where it was supposed to be. It has been 4 years (December 26, 2004) since the earthquake and tsunami hit Aceh, Indonesia and devastated villages in Thailand,, Sri Lanka and elsewhere. So it may be time to reread "Speak soft my name" if you haven't. No tears shed in this poem; Nature is not sentimental. Ruth is my 'official' 10,000th view of this blog! BLOGVILLE My goal is to visit everyone by the 31st. Made a list and I'm checking it twice. Montana: 26º at 14:00 10,005 |