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 |
The essence of the mollusk isn't that gritty intrusion that has been covered with nacre, that you've harvested to sell on strings. Far better to enjoy raw oysters, clams casino, braised scallops. For a pearl wants to be worn; it cannot be eaten. KE [180.146] (30.10.23) |
Clip clop Clip, clop; the unicorn passes them by. I hang like a fly under the harness. I have places to go where frightened men dare not — or can't. I chant to the beat of the clip-clop cant! We slow to a canter as we enter the village. Ten centaurs await us, blocking the way, braying — you shan't. (13.oktober.2023) |