Enga mellom fjella

New Year poem. 171 B.E.

me:

Written yesterday, the first day of the Bahá'í new year, Naw-Ruz 171 B.E.

First day of a new year

Snow-veils pass over the North Hills;
frost pines waiting for a mountain Spring.
Nature's calender shrugs its shoulders,
at the vernal equinox stretches out its hours,
to balance while it yawns. Earth
wakes slowly from its slumber.
A blanket of white covers its icy veins.
A snow-veil passes over the hills,
but a warm breeze will follow close behind.
Frost melts in the hollows hidden by pines.

© Kåre Enga [171.1] 20.march.2014

I know this poem needs editing... by next year?

I soaked in the tub last night. Added hot water three times. My skin thanked me. Still didn't sleep much though. Set the alarm earlier than normal.

Half-awake, I called Gary. After-all, I've been trying for three months! Still not awake when he answered. Oh, well. Nice chat. Everything there is fine.

Not connecting had been making me more depressed and anxious than usual.

Here? Sunny, cold. Quiet afternoon in the Senior Center.

Every season I open up a new notebook for my journal. Book 42 is yellow. I'm on page 3,670... not bad. I wrote 101 pages in Winter, Book 41, (red). Of course, every new book looks so innocently pristine when I start. After a couple coffee stains...

No other big news. I'll share when I have some. Getting a hold of Gare was huge.

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