L'aura del Campo

There comes a softening... (R1,R2,R3,R4)

There comes a softening...

...to coconuts
when tossed by waves
and beach-abandoned
root in sand
or muck
to push up sprouts...

...or when sliced, scooped out
cover up her tits.

© Kåre Enga [171.R1] December 2014
(for Jaime Bach)

There comes a softening...

...of the wood
when gnawed by beetles
becomes the forest's rot
then melts to mushrooms.

© Kåre Enga [171.R2] December 2014.

There comes a softening...

...to my skull
each time a blow connects
to scramble brain cells,
a battering
that slow by slow
robs me of my sanity
and shortens days.

My head hangs low
but not in shame.
It counts the hours
blow by blow.

Minutes matter most
when what remains
sifts through silent thoughts...
that in a second go.

© Kåre Enga [171.R3] 15.December.2014.

There comes a softening...

...to hard eyes
when a child
catches her first fish
and then releases it.

But first her awe
at liquid sunshine
then squeamishness
as blood squirts from her finger.

She's hooked
like her emerald prize,
now sparkling with diamonds
as she gentle lets it go.

© Kåre Enga [171.R4] 17.December.2014.

78,719