Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel" Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" "Where grows the compost heap" "Tales told over scones and hot tea" "At three" "Mauve Mavis" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" : "Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "In a garden of roses, baby" "Tupac and more poetry" "ENFP, what are you?" FACES PLACES Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
A little bag of tea An embroidered silk rug hung in front of the door. Hoan looked behind it. It was locked. She could hear something from the other side. A pidgeon cooing? Pidgeon races were famous, but dangerous. The owners didn't always play fair and pidgeons paid the price regardless. She turned around when she heard a scuffle behind her. Just Poh and Chok arguing over who-knows-what. She smiled. They argued over most everything trivial. She ignored their chaotic thoughts and said out load, "Wind too strong today?" Chok-Poh looked at each other. It never worked to lie to Hoan. They had tried too many times. "Not really." Chok spoke first. "We have to develop photos and deliver them to our bosses." "But?" "Chok doesn't want to go with me." "Oh?" "Poh's going to get chewed out. Blue Cloud wouldn't sit still and the clouds got in the way. The photos must be fuzzy." "Won't know until you let me go develop them." Hoan just shook her head. "Li will be unhappy; Chen will be furious. So... what's the real problem?" Poh started to blush. Hoan went up to Chok. She moved her fingers over the shiny gears sown along his sleeves and placed a small bag in the palm of his hand. "Drink this tea after the photos are developed and given to Li-Chen." She turned to go, hiding her grin. Whatever was lumpy between Chok-Poh was about to be smoothed out. Then she thought about the cooing. She'd come back to open that door later. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.76] (3.mai.2021) Characters from my silkpunk work: "Flying-Fish-and-Dragons". "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 3089: May 3, 2021 Prompt: Use these words in your entry: rug, lumpy, pigeon, wind, clouds, and palm. |
Early Spring in Okmulgee If those grape hyacinths won't stop interrupting... The daffodils want our attention. I'm looking for henbit. Anyone find a dandelion yet? I saw some down the alley. Go west, take a left south. Old Henry hasn't noticed them yet. Always treating our food like trash. We don't eat grass. I don't either. But you steal our honey. You're too young to know that! The hive remembers. We listen to stories. We tell stories. That red spot on you shirt sure smells sweet. Let me look closer. Not too close he's waving his hand, Be careful. Be wary. Be a bee. Yes, be a bee and behave. Now, do you need your back scratched? No! Heaven forbid. If you promise not to be rough ... ah ... that felt good. Well, it looks like rain. Time for me to pick an iris and take it home. Can we follow? Please. Pleazzz. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.89] (31.mai.2021) About 170 words For:
MAY PROMPT: You're Outside Talking to the Birds and the Bees. |