Another PIECE fell into PLACE, once she arrived at the farm where her mother had been born.

Georg’ann

There is nothing GRAND
about the cup I use each morning.
It’s not arty or sentimental.
Or at least it wasn’t.
It has a pleasing SHAPE,
comfortable in my hand
while holding an ample amount
of warm, foamy milk of some variety
mixed with lots of strong coffee.
This cup, and a single silver PLATE spoon,
have a particular PLACE
in the order of my morning.
Funny how objects can become companions.

Heather

Falling snow, icy paths, wind that can knock you over — odd to feel more ALIVE when faced with a sense of danger. Standing on the rim again and again, I cannot stop looking at the AMBER cliffs, the purples and reds further down, a wall of ASTER-colored layers. I want to remember, hold close this intense landscape, like an AFTER-image accessible to me anytime I close my eyes.

Georg’ann

Our home is etched with the life lived within.
Many markings, none that mar.
Here I sit, sipping coffee in the CHAIR
the cat has clawed to shreds.
She on my lap purring, contentment.
Cottage warmth, no desire for a MANOR.
Flowers in every season, even now
when winter bulbs delight inside.
Soon the outside blooms begin
with crocus, violets, peonies, iris, lilies,
bursts through summer, until Zinnias
carry us to the purple ASTER of fall.
Imperfections inside and out,
yet nothing to ALTER.
In this scratched up chair,
gorgeous fabric destroyed,
is still much beauty AFTER all.

Heather

Worried about FLASH floods, we had to turn to our hostess and with much regret leave early. By GOLLY, it was hard to avoid LURID thoughts of disaster and mayhem. It certainly added a sense of urgency, one that I was not known to REVEL in, though occasionally my beloved gets rather ramped up. What an odd feeling when going for a calm demeanor makes one a REBEL. In any event, our efforts somehow sorted themselves out, and together we were able to avoid disaster, REPEL our demons and land quite sweetly in a good place, in emotion and in fact.

Georg’ann

SHARP words, like shards
shifting in a kaleidoscope,
every twist a new version
from the colorful bits
tossed with no regard
for the PRICE being paid.

Spent, she rolled away
in the Land ROVER,
destination: escape.
Desire for a darkness
thick enough to REPEL
the slowly seeping regret.

Heather

I sit, not knowing how your heart came to BREAK. It feels as if I am standing on a far SHORE, the sound of a DIRGE faint in the distance. How do I support you without overwhelming you? Make space for the two halves of your heart to MERGE?
I watch anxiously — you are on the VERGE of change.

Georg’ann

In their house each CHAIR was unique.
An upright modern white wood desk chair
stood next to a vintage velvet,
golden, round seat low to the floor,
high carved wood back.
Another vintage in red leather
with brass tacking.
At least 3 more varieties graced the room.
We selected our preferred perches,
and with a BURST of energy, the children began
the salon with music and dance.
PERKY improvisations to Bach and Tchaikovsky.
Poems, photos, memoir pages followed.
Tentatively sharing vision and voice,
we come to the VERGE of knowing
one another intimately, still
uncertain how much to reveal.

Heather

Sara stepped off the train, battered brown suitcase in one hand, cloche hat in place. She was open and ready for whatever this day would bring. She paused, looking around, and she felt satisfied. Very far from home, indeed. She moved along the platform, taking in the sights and sounds – the cheerful CHIME of a bicycle bell, the CREAK of wagons being loaded, a bevy of COEDS from the local uni, followed by handsome lads in boaters and seersucker. “Hey oh, miss? Are you the new secretary come to work at t’office?” Sara blinked. This, she was not prepared for – an elderly man approaching, nervously turning his hat in his hands. A rather sad-looking buggy with two old horses. “Yes, I am Sara Bradford. Are you with Mr. Smythe’s law office?” “Aye, that I am. If you will coom this way, we’ll head oof.” As she got in the buggy, he kept up a string of comments that were difficult to grasp –
something about a recent loss of a family member off the local CLEVE, and how it was like something something being caught in the CLEFT of a rock formation. Sara hoped that Mr. Smythe’s speech would be easier to follow. And she suddenly felt nervous about stepping into a family tragedy of some sort. Isn’t that what she was trying to escape??

Georg’ann

Today has been a meandering sort of day,
one in which I keep losing my TRAIN of thought
and struggle to remember the simple QUOTE
that so clearly illustrates the main point.

These poor students! It’s already
a STEEP learning curve trying to absorb principles,
of intangible and often ineffable happenings.
Unfurling from reliance on prompts and protocols.

Usually I move deftly between experiential
and explanatory, weaving meaning gracefully.
Succinctly making relevant what seems a mystery.
Today, between the hemispheres a large CLEFT.

Heather

AWARE of the APPLE
ALONE in the bowl
I touch the skin
Turn to see
The shine of the peel
And feel ALIVE

Georg’ann

Rainy NIGHT, warm air,
smells as if spring is in POISE.
Blooms almost ALIVE.

Heather

Looking at the pile of clothes, books, toiletries, and more, I COULD LAUGH out loud. It is a ridiculous idea to think that all of this will fit in one suitcase. But it must be done. I begin. Folding, rolling, finding nooks and crannies, UNTIL, at last, every bit of the suitcase is full. How satisfying – and it had almost a PULSE beat, a nice rhythm, as I attempted to BULLY pajamas and underwear, sweaters and socks into submission. The chaos of these assorted BULKY piles has been tidily tamed.

Georg’ann

Greta was done BEING embarrassed by her side hustle. Leaning in, she actually really enjoyed wearing the sandwich BOARD, the BUSHY beard, skull cap, and Carhartt biberalls. It was a BULKY get up, heavy to carry, but she was warm, and believed in the product they were paying her to promote.

Heather

I watch and wonder about
These regular visitors to our HOUSE —
Do they DREAM of our feeders?
Ponder PETTY squabbling over seeds?
Plot to EXPEL the squirrels?
Curse when the feeders are empty?
Our little bird friends

Georg’ann

Quickly an EXTRA place was set
for the EXILE who’d come to the table.
Unexpected, he had crossed the border,
newly drawn in this on-going war.
We EXCEL at moving undetected,
in and out of our homelands.
Guarded, I EXPEL a sigh,
letting the tension release
as I ladle the soup into his bowl.

Heather

Sitting and pondering today’s words, I am struck how sometimes the words have personalities. And so: “TRIAL” seems a trickster, tempting one to read it as trail. “LOUSE” feels judgemental – don’t be one and don’t mess up, though it also conjures up images of English class and the poem by Robert Burns. And then there is “LEGGY” with its identity crisis: is it a svelte model or a plant in need of tending? And so today, they end up like mismatched guests at a party, circling one another and deciding that they really don’t have much in common.

Georg’ann

UNDER a woven piece of cloth,
too pretty to toss, is a treasure
box of junk, recycled like its cover.
It’s easier for my imagination
to create out of WASTE held
together with EPOXY, material
not too precious for experiments
with structure and form,
perfectionism takes a rest.
Hands begin exploring, soon
a woman with copper wire hair
takes shape, her bead BELLY full,
she’s long and LEGGY, ready
for her pipe cleaner limbs to dance.

Heather

Looking out the window of the DINER, I see the moon. It is made PALER against the sky by city lights. A mere crescent, it seems to rise up from the SHEER cliffs of skyscrapers. Now, I see it is joined by a flickering EMBER of light, a jet moving steadily across the sky. A moment of awe and wonder: to savor the creations of humanity and the universe.

Georg’ann

Inside my head so many things,
keeping TRACK of it all is ROUGH.
Imagine every crevice of grey matter stuffed,
bits spilling out, piled up
like something from a Hoarders episode.
Yet my externally facing spaces
show no clutter. Maintained to soothe.

Over a slice of DINER pumpkin pie my mother asked
if I would sort 3 paper bags of accumulated mail.
She’d pay me handsomely,
as she could not distinguish
the junk from the necessary.
Perhaps bills were coming due?

I took the bags home, started a fire,
made a cup of tea.
Poured out the envelopes.
Back into a bag went what needed attention,
the rest I set aflame, piece by piece.
It was actually quick work, so simple.
I sat in bewildered sadness watching
the last remaining EMBER turn
from hot orange red to cooler black.

Heather

With a LAUGH, I reached into the DRAIN, pulling out the thing that was MEANT to scare me, but only made a mess: a rubber SNAKE. It’s going to take a minute to figure out how I will pay my sister back for this prank.

Georg’ann

Rustling SOUND in leaves,
Still I SNEAK up, take your hand
We SNAKE down the path.

Heather

First meeting did not go well. But AFTER thoughtful consideration, I decided that he was not AWFUL. His ALOOF stance, calculated to keep at bay the curious and the pushy, looked at a different way, appeared to be protection. Taking him in was a risk. Building a relationship was slow. Patience was required to break through. When I succeeded, he turned into the best companion cat I have ever had.

Georg’ann

Of all the miniatures lined in categories,
this wall of trinkets on white shelves,
you select so often a little platter of FRUIT,
then a smooth round rock.
Nurture and grounding is what you seek,
time and time again,
to protect against the CHAFE.
Today you chose DAFFY Duck,
plucked him right quick,
put him the sand, alone.
Then walked away, ALOOF.
We did not deconstruct the transition.

Only part of this is true.
From imagination comes
another kind of truth.
Which is which?
And what is what?

Heather

My hip, like a hinge –
PLACE a hand
On the BLOCK –
Leg out long:
Half-moon pose
Calmness and energy
Held in suspension

Georg’ann

Grey fog blurs SHARP edges,
beckons us into the night.
COUNT each BLOCK we walk.

Heather

Oh, why couldn’t she have left well enough alone? The urge to fiddle with things always got her in trouble. Plus, the PAINT was expensive, she didn’t really have the time, and frankly, she wasn’t as great a FIXER as she liked to believe. But here she was, after work, in this EERIE house, with a scraper in her hand. Clearly, she was as mad as the last person who REDID the wallpaper. Gah, what hideous colors. As she continued scraping, the last RELIC of an earlier time peeled away. Lost in thought about the next steps, she jumped, startled by a door slamming somewhere in the house. She froze – footsteps, running – then the faint sound of a woman’s voice. Her heart sounded very loud to her, as she remembered the warnings that the place was haunted – which suddenly seemed preferable to any other explanation. “Who’s there?” she managed to eke out, cursing how frightened she sounded.

Georg’ann

GUESS it was inevitable 
that we’d inhabit a PLACE of micro climates. 
Every room its own continent. 
One humid where the TOWEL 
never fully dries, always musty.
Another rarely warms, chill in the air,
comfort sought, under cover. 
Some where the weather is capricious,
be prepared for sudden change. 

The kitchen unites them all. 
Icy floors, simmering steam, slow baking heat,
breezes under and through spaces,
areas that lack insulation. 
A room capable of multiple rainbows,
blinding sun, long shadows, sweet scents,
or a noxious BELCH of something
into the air. 
Within reach a RELIC or two
gathered along the way. 

Heather

People have such different reactions to their special days, and I try to LEARN what is wanted by my closely-held dear ones. And no day brings this variety of wishes into view more than the celebration of birthdays. I respect that each of my dears has a SOLID reason for wanting birthday festivities of a particular sort- some prefer serious and reverent, some want the SILLY and playful, and others a mix of a few sweetly held moments without too much fuss. I know where you land, dear friend, and look forward to a moment to be in your cherished company, grateful for our a long relationship. It runs through my life, a STILL and steady theme that manges to grow and change with our lives. Happy birthday to you

Georg’ann

This collection of words
conjure a form best left
unwritten. Let them speak
only to me, echo from deep
within the cave of my self.

The SIGHT of them gathered
is like a knotty STICK prodding
into tender places, held
in the tissue of STIFF muscles.
So STILL, this private poem.

Heather

I hear you, and FROWN
I would WHISK away
What has you down —
Let me TWEAK the day
And send you, lighter,
On your way

Georg’ann

TIRED in weary way
Try to TEASE out reasons why
TWEAK, recalibrate

Heather

I am so impressed by THEIR ability to build something together. They really understood how to do this – so when the building became available, they were READY to move and make it a reality. I believe in the power of good relationships, and this bookshop definitely AROSE out of the energy and creativity that they foster in one another. But it’s not just about them. The success of a place like this comes, at least in part, from being able to CARVE out a niche that does multiple things at once. They have definitely succeeded. In just a short time, the shop has become a LARGE part of their community’s life. It’s really beautiful to see.

Georg’ann

A few days of PAUSE
to BATHE in different waters.
Not NAIVE that it’s a panacea.
But for 3 days, living LARGE.

Heather

When uncertain of my PLACE, I tend not to make a SOUND – sitting quietly I THINK; I observe. Only once I feel safe and secure do I take the giant risk and do the THING that makes me tremble ever so slightly: I speak feeling as if I am leaping into empty air.

Georg’ann

Driving toward the snow STORM.
On the Pennsylvania Turnpike, entering Philadelphia,
hands grip the wheel, body alert.

Yet I am aware of the snow covered pine boughs
heavy, leaning toward the road.
Long icicle clusters descending from the bouldered hill.

Entering the city, narrow streets lined with white cars,
children walk with sleds,
two teens carry snow shovels.
A parent teaching their child about salt
on stoop steps for safety.

Walking up to the door, anticipating the calling of “Mama”
in the distinct cadence of my daughter’s voice
as she wraps her arms around me in a strong, lingering embrace.

Like Louis Armstrong, I THINK to myself,
What a Wonderful World.
There is not a THING amiss this afternoon.

Heather

I open a bleary eye, longing for just one more moment, to clutch and cower under a warm COVER. A glance at the clock, and my heart sinks like a STONE: night wakefulness STOLE my morning leisureliness.

Georg’ann

Her LANKY body
quickly swooped down the steep SLOPE
and STOLE the whole show.

Heather

Sadly, the only thing that made him feel WHOLE was to have a large audience in his ORBIT, like a king holding COURT.

Georg’ann

Creamy skin, pierced brow, ruby lips, dark hair, sparkling eyes.
A flowered silky SCARF from a bygone era,
over her hair, tied under her chin.
Baggie light jeans, a jean jacket, and clunky boots.
18 years old, effortlessly hip.
She’s chic, she’s unique.

We walk a long distance, laughing,
taking in new pathways.
Scratching pigs, petting horses, taking selfies.
Later she does the CHORE of chopping
all the root veggies for roasting.
A sous chef extraordinaire.

After dinner she holds COURT,
engaging everyone in a game of wordplay.
No easy feat to take the lead,
in this boisterous family,
so rare she has the chance
to shine in a room filled with celestial beings.
Justine, this season my North Star,
brightest of them all.

Heather

The smell of sugar and butter rises up from the mixer, and a more than FAINT whiff of vanilla brings back a flood of memories. How many times have I made these, building up a MOUND of dough, ready to scoop up and fill cookie sheets? As they bake, I watch the pale spoonfuls turn a golden BLOND color. You come into the kitchen anticipation written all over your face, ready to savor the crunch of the edge and the contrasting soft centers, and hot melted chocolate chips. We are like children with after-school snacks, gleeful with our glasses of cold milk and sugar crusted lips.

Georg’ann

This evening while moving from room to room,
a small pile of fallen WHITE orchid blossoms
caught my attention.
I’m not sure when they fell,
though long enough to dry
into something like rice paper cranes.
Delicate. In my hand.
As it started to close over them
the slightest crinkle SOUND.
Opening, my fingers unfurling,
I let them fall again.
Strewn across the dark wood shelf,
tissue birds of peace nestled
between the soft fern FROND
and the photo of the BLONDE little girl
reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s
How To Love.

Heather

It’s the MONTH of cold and gray, and I feel dragged down. Looking out the window, I struggle to find a bright spot, a sprinkle of color, a PINCH of spice. And then I see them: the little finches with their reds and browns, the sassy wren with its plump body and tilting head, and the haughty blue jays swooping in to grab a peanut. On a BENCH, its tail held tight against its back to ward off the bitter cold, a squirrel eats with a focus and concentration worthy of any worker settling down to a well-earned LUNCH. Taken out of myself, my spirits lift and I bustle about, looking forward to replenishing the feeders. Winter is transformed from threat and misery to happy opportunity.

Georg’ann

Salted eggplant slices laid out
on a dishcloth to SWEAT,
a measure FOUND to decrease bitterness.
These creamy round disks,
with speckled, seedy centers
ringed with deepest black-purple skin
await the dredging and dipping
into flour, egg, breadcrumbs.
Extra care in how I prepare
lest we INCUR judgement as we MUNCH.
An epicurean has been invited to LUNCH.

Heather

The THEME for the celebration was PLAIN as the nose on your face. Which was good, because none of us are getting any younger and a few of us are getting there faster than others. In short, we were to eat cake, sing a song, DRINK hot beverages (coldest day of the year so far!), give gifts, eat a good meal. Oh, and do all this in a festive way in another city (thus making it even more festive and special). In case you haven’t guessed, this was a birthday party. One that had had a circuitous pathway in conception and execution, but proved in the DOING of it, to be delightful and immensely satisfying.

Georg’ann

I marvel at CLOTH.
Fibers made into SOUND pieces
is DOING magic.

Heather

Searching a pocket
Need a little MONEY
Just to EXIST
I want to do more
So I must persist
What did you say?
Get a job, get some pay?
Yeah, yeah, I HEARD
The one about the early bird
See you in the morning

Georg’ann

Today no PAUSE, it’s a milestone
birthday blitz for you.

Pour CREAM in the coffee,
fire up those internal engines.

Time for relaxing LATER,
now get READY to go.

Red pepper sauce in white BEARD,
Ethiopian dinner, family style.

We HEARD your request, a day trip
celebration with lots of cake.

Heather

Lt. Det. James P. Fischer looked over the PRINT out of his personal log. He found it useful to read it over at the beginning of the day, and being a man of a certain age, while he wrote on his computer, he did prefer paper when it came to reading. He was deep in thought, contemplating what he had written about his last case, when there was a knock at the door. He grunted. Taking that as a “come in!”, Det. Sarah Rose stuck her head in. “Boss, there’s been a break in over in the TRADE district near Chinatown. A STORE was broken into and the clerk on duty got beat up pretty bad. The team is en ROUTE to check it out.” He nodded his assent. The door closed quietly and he returned to his thoughts. “Wait a minute- was this connected to -” he shook his head. Surely some petty robbers didn’t have anything to do with Black Market syndicate they were trying to break. He sighed. This is what came
of having been on medical leave. His brain was slow and they were coddling him. Reaching for his cane, he heaved himself out of the chair. He better get some more information.

Georg’ann

Staring into the closet, naked.
Hands moving hangers this way
then back that way, bounty
of prints, textures, weights.
As they pass, glimpses of
acquisitions, scenes.
Portals, everywhere portals.
This olive LINEN dress, simple
yet too sheer,
and now ripped under the arm. CHEAP, yet filled with riches.
It holds friends laughing in that Croatian STORE,
my husband insisting, me shy
then elegant with artsy gold earrings, hair swooped up.
Eating some kind of TORTE in the nook
by the windows, playful ease.
A chill brings me back, winter here.
The ROUTE ahead requires something sturdy-
cottons and wool, layers.
Standing here exposed, seeking
some substance, security,
comfort to drape the hollow shell.

Heather

My life is full and rich with community. Given this, I sometimes have to PLEAD for alone time. In truth, I cannot EXIST without some sort of solitude on a regular basis. It rejuvenates me, aligns my inner being. It rings an inner harmonious CHIME audible only to me. It’s important to not mistake this need for a loner impulse – indeed, if I were severed from relationships, a giant KNIFE cutting them all away, I would have a deep and primal GRIEF. There is a balance to be achieved when, even for BRIEF periods, I can experience solitude.

Georg’ann

Massage me like DOUGH
release the SPIKE in my neck
Even BRIEF, it’s relief

Heather

It was a most unexpected moment – we talked about it forever after – that time when a CAMEO appearance by some SHEEP thwarted the efforts of a THIEF. You see, these THREE ewes were pretty unique (haha), and the way they THREW themselves into the path of that would be burglar, well, you just had to see it to believe it.

Georg’ann

Laughing as we BUILD
a TOWER of bright foam blocks
Then THREW things at it.

Heather

My DREAM lingers
Across the day
A GIVER of meaning to my
Otherwise humdrum life
Like cosmic LINER notes
Over which I nod sagely,
Mulling and pondering
According to my fancy

Georg’ann

GRACE waltzed into the pet STORE determined to buy a VIPER. However none of the options visually appealed to her, she’d expected a WIDER selection. As she looked and pondered, her fingers rubbed the satin LINER of her coat, a life long habit formed from discovering the soothing sensation of rubbing together folds of a satin edged cotton baby blanket.

Once when she was about 6, she couldn’t help reaching out to rub a stranger’s satin skirt while waiting in line at the Super-X drugstore. Her paternal aunt called her a “sensory seeking child”.

This was the draw of a pet snake. Grace was looking for a particular sensation. She wanted the muscular movement of weighted, silky scales slithering along her limbs, neck, and hands in the hopes of settling her general sense of dis-ease.

Heather

Uncertain about the future, looking to EVICT the devils and the negative self-talk, she steps out into the WINDY night. Might be a MINUS, might be a plus, but at least if won’t be the usual night at home with a screen and ice cream. Walking into the church hall, she gets her BINGO cards and takes her place. Strangers all around, this feels good: unexpected, daring, playful. She doesn’t even care what the FINAL cash wins are, she’s already won at life just by being here.

Georg’ann

Weariness FOUND us
as FINCH flies to the feeder
FINAL flash, fleeting.

Heather

Walking, hand in hand, we find a way up the hill. Through the forest, we play at being BRAVE souls. Together, we express our determination: our footfalls POUND the STONY trail. You count our steps out loud, in that sing-song voice that reminds me of the Swedish chef from the Muppets. At last, we reach the top and I swing you up to rest on my hip. You beam at me — “We did it!” Yes, sweetie, we did.

Georg’ann

Hard to name the CAUSE
They each have their own STORY.
STONY hearts won’t yield.

Heather

Sometimes it is a struggle to feel that one has WORTH. Is there a SCALE that one can step on in order to measure one’s value? Or a CABLE, marked in increments, to stand next to and in that manner, take one’s measure?

Georg’ann

Carpe Diem

Concentration like SMOKE rising from the candle,
distinctly there, then dissipated into nothingness.
Yowling cat and the hum of something mechanical
break into the QUIET I want to DRAPE over me.

Time to HEAVE the weight
of this blanket cocoon.
Shock the system with cold air
meeting warm skin,
feet finding the frigid floor.

When I re-enter the fabric folds tonight,
what FABLE might be made possible
from elements encountered throughout the day.
What bedtime story will be told?
Will it have the makings for CABLE TV?

Heather

Opening the book carefully, not wanting to break its still like new SPINE, Joanna settled in. “Once upon a time,” she read,. And so began the story of the good KNAVE who tricked a bad GNOME, thus saving the village from certain destruction. She giggled at how the hero was so clever and able to NUDGE the villain towards exile. All accomplished without so much as a single LUNGE and thrust of his trusty sword.

Georg’ann

Nothing is coming- all my words are light,
seeming to evoke fashion, a dance floor.
Yet the day has been one of gravitas.

The forefront holds a box of human ashes,
soft green algae dancing under clear river water,
2 eagles soaring above, sun reflects
friends stand close, arm in arm.
Calls come in, another realm – psychosis, client self destruction.

BELOW that which urges for attention
are the elusive threads
as I strive to weave with my words.
An image of pants with a wide FLARE,
a dance floor, someone with STYLE
(in clothing and their moves)
pulls off a swivel hip and pelvis tilt,
landing a low LUNGE and a jump up.

It’s there, but not compelling.
It doesn’t speak truth.
Tonight’s mood is not fanciful fiction,
or playful scene making with these random words.
Long form is the writing I crave,
an expanse without constraint,
to engage each exquisite detail of the day.

Heather

Not much makes me happier than to sing, DANCE, and CLANG about in the kitchen. In these days of SCANT hope, my heart is lifted by the preparation of good food and the chance to share the abundance with others. It is in those moments that I can truly feel that all will be well.

Georg’ann

Catch and Release
It was only a BRIEF thought,
I caught it in time, reeling it in.
Disheartened by how easy it is
to be pulled out of myself.
Setting in motion the reflexive adjustments of accommodation. Convoluted negotiations.
“SOUND the alarms,
she’s starting to SLANT.”
I braced against the force,
held steady, and then cut the line.
Reserved the SCANT bit of energy,
enough to sustain.
This woman didn’t go overboard.

Heather