L'aura del Campo

Hugo

Hugo

His eyes follow me; his heartwood hidden by the fumes of scotch. His letters were delivered long ago but still remembered in Pony and Dixon, memorialized in black typeface on white papers pressed between covers sitting on shelves. Silent but not forgotten they wait for gentle hands, an opening to a page where his words point the way for fellow poets. "Listen to the hearts of people", they admonish, "the voice of the patient land". In the weft and warp hear them weave; honor their journey; give them wings of flight.

© Kåre Enga [1.diciembere.2016] Sitting with Ann Bodle-Nash in the Dell Brown Room listening to a reading (Hannah Bissell?).

80.186