L'aura del Campo

Lëtzebuerg (Hourglass)

Apples harvested, gardens put to rest. Oriole sat on a terrace along the Alzette and practiced breathing. In with the coming cold of winter, snow clad castles, glow of a café beckoning with the fragrance of mulled cider. Out with summer's warmth and the memories of carnivals and the taste of those crunchy potato cakes, Gromperekichelcher with applesauce. Above him the men and women in suits hurried to their business lunches. Oriole bit into his chocolate croissant. He knew the hustle and bustle of traffic would blare at him when he climbed back up. For now quiet. He chewed slowly as he jingled coins in his pocket. Would he have enough? Enough self-pity. He stood and walked marveling at the cliffs soaring above him. He gazed at up the caves. One lone lizard basked in a weak ray of sun, green clung to rock. He laughed at himself. At the bottom there is only one direction. Up.

© Kåre Enga [175.267] (18.oktober.2018)

36-45º in November. First snow. Gromperekichelcher

5 senses:

sight — apples, glow, cliffs, caves, lizard, green, rock, snow
smell — mulled cider
sound — blare, quiet, jingled coins,
taste — potato cakes, applesauce, chocolate croissant
touch — cold,

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