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 |
Rivers flow from high to low — not all reach the sea. Here, where rice-fields flood then overflow, where high banks cannot stem the mighty flow — but only redirect it — water cleanses transgressions and leaves us bereft — and those downstream — drowning. |
You snooze. I sneeze. And worlds whirl with or without us. In pictures you'll always be a teenage geek or handsome man. You'll wrinkle long after I'm gone. Not because I want to move on; but, Death's embrace doesn't wait. |