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 L ![]() ![]() 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 ![]() ~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish |
Birches and blossoms Eyes wide open a child climbs the birch — blue robin eggs The pines have sheltered the deer, the robin, from ice, the melt, the chill, now spring has found the birch greening branches, enticing sparrows, finches and robins to move to a new perch. Come summer, dense shade of the maple, and the damp leaf mold, provide a home for bugs and worms for generations of wings that adorn the trees like autumn leaves among the gold. Now the winds of winter lulls all to sleep under a blanket of snow. Yet life persists in nooks and crannies, slowly marking the days until the sun returns when the impatient plums send out buds and bloom. robin flitting among plum blossoms — old man with a cane © Kåre Enga [182.] (7.juni.2025) 27 lines |