Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
L'aura del campo 'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos' ♣ Federico García Lorca ♣ L'aura del campo. A breeze in the meadow. So it began the last day of Spring, 2005; on the 16th day of the month of Light of the year 162. This is a supplement to my daily journal written to a friend, my muse; notes I do not share. Here I will share what the breeze has whispered to me. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS! I LV COMMENTS! On a practical note, in answer to your questions: IN MEMORIUM VerySara passed away November 12, 2005 Please visit her port to read her poems and her writings. More suggested links: These pictures rotate. Kåre Enga ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Rice fields on the way to Sisaket Stretching farther than I can see, nothing but empty fields, puddles, spare trees. The rice fields have been harvested. Emerald puddles glisten under clear skies, no smoke in sight. As water buffalo graze I lounge in my seat, gaze out the window. I sit still as the world flies by. as my words slow down, no longer able to keep up. As I doze, they stumble between the stubble, among memories of corn, wheat and beans; but, when I wake up, only rice-straw bundles stare back at me. © Copyright 2023 Kåre Enga (10.desember.2024) 12 lines |