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Showing posts from 2023

sadness

 sadness hidden in the shadows faith petra domina

Captives

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This summer of 2023 has been brutally hot many days.  The excessive heat has been the second highest in recorded history world wide.  Read more here .  The heat at Camp Mabry, the nearest official weather station to me, averaged the following: June 2023     -   97.9℉  36.6℃  (5 days above 100℉)        historical average - 89℉  31.6℃ July 2023      - 103.5℉  39.7℃  (6 days below 100℉)        historical average - 97℉  36.1℃ August 2023 - 104.9℉  40.5℃  (2 days below 100℉)        historical average - 96℉  35.5℃  prisoners  held captive by sun's blaze oil barons parched lips mouth prayers blessed fall © petra domina

Carpe Diem Haiku AI Painting

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  Carpe Diem Haiku Kai inspiration painting: citrus colored clouds glide across the blue sky grapes ripen © petra domina Visit Chèvrefeuille by clicking on the post title.  Watch for new prompts.

Flower Inspirations

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  Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, a new episode: flower market After a long absence our wonderful mentor has returned to challenge us novice haiku writers.  If you will click here , you will see the challenge post for this week. depth of a flower flying away with the bee some mystery (C) Jane Reichhold (1937-2016) On the flower market A mysterious woman selling  - Her broken heart (C) Chèvrefeuille - - - - - - - - - - - - moonflower radiates in darkness taste of death © Petra Domina For more beautiful poetry visit  Chèvrefeuille's blog, Carpe Diem Haiku Kai .

Inner child

Recently I drove 200 miles to my home town to attend the funeral of a friend.  A man who, along with his wife, rode the elevator with my husband, my hours-old son, and me to the maternity ward.  His birthday was that same day, the day of our only child's birth.   Once the funeral was over, hugs and memories shared with his two adult children, I drove out to a house about 7 miles away.  It was our house. Built to our plans and sold when that only child was two years old.  Not sold before it left a mark on our friends and their children.  Leaving that home for another state our friend drifted away as the currents of life pulled us apart. After the visit to our home, I drove back to the house where I spent my teen years.  During the drive an unusual thing happened to my conscience.  I was not driving a car down a road, I was parking the Falcon in my parents garage.  I was walking toward the oh so familiar screen door.  The smells in my...