This Desert burns away more than the skin. Seeping into ones heart the blood boils drying. Aching bones are brittle from temperatures soaring. Scanning the horizon for just a bit of moisture. I sigh and turn to crawl back to my oh so distant car. How did I end up here my mind wanders over actions. What turns did I make at the last crossroads fork? Looking around there in the horizon the wind begins. Its song brings forth the vibrant colors of the desert. I hear the call of the coyote his voice echoes on and on. Acacia trees put off their distinct. perfume so fragrant. Then I sit down breathing in the hot desert's breath. A tear slides slowly down my parched cheek finally....
Wrought to a perfect climax. I was with you through every moment, and every bead of sweat here, Theresa. Reminded me of a lyric which Suzanne Vega sang last night at a concert in Cardiff - "Blood makes noise"; it surely does when it is pounding in your ears and temples with this kind of heat and breathlessness. Thank God for the healing there is in tears shed - and their abundance in a parched and barren land! Like your prose style here; this is something I would like to work more on. Great visual, too. TY Kate xx
I have never seen a desert looking so beautiful and inviting. Maybe its the beauty of the sunset or mybe its your talent as a photographer, Theresa. Beautiful write, Theresa!
Teri, Your the Bestest! I loved the text and poem. If you climb the tree with a knife and slit the sleeve at the top you may have several gallons of water to drink. David
We have had a week of stiffling humidity with temperatures that have not hit 90 degrees yet. Thank God. Oh for a lasting rain also. Great write and the pic is awesome.
I felt the arid heat, and the ache of loneliness and regret in this excellent prose piece. Very well penned!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
It's near 100 degrees out there, no rain since June 5...we're nearly six inches below where we should be. PERHAPS a (SLIGHT) chance Friday. If it doesn't happen, we will be in trouble....
At the young of age of seven, Jill's mother Eve takes her for regular sessions to a child psychologist for treatment of her anxiety, which only makes her behavior worse. When she reaches her teens, she starts drinking and then smoking marijuana with
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Very beautiful write. That picture is awesome.
TRASK
God bless,
Sandie.
Felix
Love Tinka
Blessings to you!
Love,
Eileen
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :)
I felt the arid heat, and the ache of loneliness and regret in this excellent prose piece. Very well penned!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
It's near 100 degrees out there, no rain since June 5...we're nearly six inches below where we should be. PERHAPS a (SLIGHT) chance Friday. If it doesn't happen, we will be in trouble....