I am speaking quietly, not wanting to make any NOISE. I am practicing something that has given me GREAT pleasure in the past: memorizing a poem. I feel a little conspicuous, sitting on the patio at 8:30 am, reciting lines out loud. Hence, my quiet voice. The poem doesn’t have a distinctive METER or rhyme, yet I am finding it easy to memorize. It makes me feel hopeful, the way poetry often does: that someone has arranged these words in a pleasing visual pattern and with such lovely meaning.

Georg’ann

Long before the Twilight series,
you had romantic yearnings
for COUNT Dracula.
Desire to STARE into dark eyes,
ready to tilt the pale neck,
prepared for the piercing bite
and then the soft sucking.
Willing to give life blood,
at least a LITER, to the lover.
All wordless fantasy.
This dreamy scene silent.
No dramatic METER necessary.

Heather