We seek moments FOUND
Amid chaos and noise
Wherein we take a risk: to write,
To stretch and occasionally struggle
Pushing on: another risk, to SHARE
Not a shelf of dusty LIBRI
(Sad records of the past –
Frozen and forgotten)
But rather to capture living fragments-
Light and magical as feathers
That TWIRL in the wind

Georg’ann

Sending her to DREAM, listening to lullabies.
A collection she now knows by heart,
as do I, as does my adult daughter.
Her soft voice sings along, as does mine,
“…in a flash of GLORY, in a ray of light,
welcome to the world that will hold you tight.”
Quickly her voice falls away as her breath deepens into slumber.
Emotions WHIRL about in this peaceful scene,
lit with amber salt light.
My tender joy always comes
with a SWIRL of sorrow.
Her face on the pillow, arms wrapped around a squishy, plush axolotl
is an innocence, a vulnerability
that splays my heart space.
Like in her sand scene created earlier, the wide eyed recognition that life goes by quickly.
Ripe with suffering, with fear.
As she already knows too well.
I reach out to TWIRL one of her
golden curls,
silk threads around my finger.

Heather

It was a SWIFT and easy decision to take on this project. In fact, despite its size, she did not see it as a CHORE. And despite its very public nature and potential for creating DRAMA, she was feeling excited about it. It would be a chance to MARRY her design skills with her sense of color on a large scale. She planned to head over later to the building and talk with the owners about exactly what kind of MURAL they wanted.

Georg’ann

Using FRESH arugula to ADORN it,
we elevated the PARTY pizza
into a middlebrow crowd pleaser.
Our family New Year celebration
had something for everyone.
The evening’s offerings pulled
from every era of our combined lives.
Even a pair of white go-go boots CIRCA 1973
were pulled out and passed down.
If I could paint, last night
would be rendered in a MURAL-
a vibrant depiction of our cohesion

Heather

We have BLOWN the horns
Had a good LAUGH over punch
Time to TALLY up the last year and
Release the leftover SALTY feelings
With a hip hip hooray
Happy New Year!

Georg’ann

Please, I need WATER.
barbecue chips are TANGY.
SALTY mouth cries “help”.

Heather

SPEAK gently —
Lest you WOUND
the CHILD

Georg’ann

QUIET, sitting outside
watching a HAIRY spider
calm, curious CHILD

Heather

I feel irritated in the moment
Is it too extreme that I stop and think
Some day DEATH will visit
And I will miss this feeling
You will be gone
I will be gone
Suddenly the irritation seems trivial
Every day I struggle
Every day I LEARN
Gratitude and grace

Georg’ann

COUNT slowly, moving the breath out the way a SNAIL glides across the walk. Let your mind be BLANK. In this way LEARN to meditate.

Heather

Together we LEARN and deepen
Our relationship, shaped over the years
By kitchen time and love
We make a PASTA sauce and
The memories bubble up:
You, baby in a sling across my torso,
Your tiny hand holds a carrot, waving
I chop onions and garlic
Pour the olive oil, sauté
Experiences layered across the years
My aged hands now arthritic, but still able
You, a man now, become my extra hands
Reach above my head with ease,
We bask in family adoration of the results
DAISY yellow noodles gleam amid
Blood red sauce

Georg’ann

GRIEF arrived quickly
THICK man too thin now, breath weak.
Friend comes, a DAISY.

Heather

I ADMIT to a flaw —
Not fatal! –To wonder
WHERE I saw
(Or did I SHOVE under
Cushion, book?)
My PHONE–
Oh Let me look
For this damn thing I own
(Or does it own me?)

Georg’ann

Sitting curled in the chair with her legs like a pretzel,
jaws in motion, working the EXTRA CHEWY caramel.
Oblivious to everyone else, she’s taken a SHINE.
Enraptured with your stories, you cast a spell.
Granddaughter & grandmother, me the daughter-mother
I reach for my PHONE to snap this scene,
as if the camera could suspend the inevitable.
The universe is expanding,
we will be pulled into different orbits.

Heather

We sat around the table, each CHAIR elbow-jostling close. And though the numbers change from year to year, we always managed to WEDGE everyone around the table. It’s the holiday tradition – delicious, lovingly prepared meals, special drinks, and of course the stories. We will retell beloved family lore, like the tale of how Aunt Betty surprised the family and decided to ELOPE. We will swap current tales, sharing who was born, who died, and where others took vacations or how they changed jobs. All in all, the happy cacophony of voices around the table EVOKE feelings of connection and hope, an annual gift much anticipated and treasured.

Georg’ann

While everyone napped,
I boiled the FRUIT for the cake.
Orange globes reflecting in the silver pan
I sat sipping tea, looking out.
A portly squirrel makes a CAMEO,
chasing away the doves, stealing the holiday seed cones.
Acrobatic skill was SHONE,
as it deftly hung and pulled at its prize.
I pulled on my kitchen GLOVE-
It allows me to wildly whack.
Thus I began to chop pecans with fervor,
letting them have all pent emotions.
The scent of the boiling clementines EVOKE
memories of times past, absences impossible to fill.

Heather

Ok, I have tried up one side and down the other, and while normally I can write SWIFT and sure, tonight no matter how I SHAKE it, I got nothing. No flow, no juice. An empty SCORE. I want to SLOPE off into the night, wend my way to a book and bed. And so G’night.

Georg’ann

Lemon GLAZE, like a waterfall from spoon to cake.
Pouring over cranberry and walnut boulders,
pooling in the crevices.
Glory be, it has burst its banks
to SLOPE down the steep sides.
Little fingers dip in the runoff,
with a smile as wide and sweet
as the sugar river.

Heather

A SMEAR provides evidence that a POUND of butter had sat on the counter, softening. There are a couple of TOUGH-to-get-out stains on a kitchen towel. And there are gaps on the shelves where the cookbooks sit, indicators of researching and decision-making, plans laid and abandoned, then new plans made and followed. Finding things in the refrigerator is as much about TOUCH as it is about sight, as it is filled to bursting. This is the glorious holiday season – when we show our love by cooking all the favorites, pull out new recipes to delight and tempt. Joyous. Merry. Happy.

Georg’ann

My grandmother’s books line the bottom SHELF.
Worn paperbacks from the 50s and 60s
Nurse romance novels, one after another.
Hilarious descriptions and cover art.
The lone child’s book, A Playmate for Peter.
And that 1st lesbian pulp fiction, Twilight Girl.

I notice them now as I shift things,
making room for holiday tchotchkes.

A BATCH of her cream cheese cookies
sitting on the table, delicate stars of wonder.
All the Maritano women make them, annual tradition.
We each have a tea towel with the recipe.

With a kitchen TORCH I light the final purple taper.
Sitting in its glow, nibbling
on rich, layered sweetness.
My eyes, my fingers, my tongue TOUCH
the connection we never had.

Heather

Wandering through with a cleanup crew, Sarah reflected on how much they could make once it was cleaned up. But she wasn’t ready to bring that up – yet. So out loud she said, “Gah, what a PLACE! Between the MOLDY smell and odd bits like that random QUILL and cracked vase, we are going to have a devil of a time getting it clean enough to sell. When was the house BUILT?”

Georg’ann

My best friend eased the car down the DRIVE, turned left onto the gravel road and headed to the small cemetery where we liked perch atop a gravestone and talk. Usually we walked, but today we decided to take her parents’ car- they were away for 24 hours. It was our first time being left alone and we were up for adventure. A teen risk. Neither of us had a license or permission to drive, nor, obviously any experience.

It was a late afternoon in September when yellowjackets aggressively come for food. Do they sense the ending of their days when sunlight comes at an angle and nights have a chill?

One got in her soda can, with the next sweet sip came a sharp STING, suddenly her lip grew THICK. We weren’t worried that it could be FATAL, yet we did feel an urgency to get home. Back in the car no amount of turning the key in the ignition resulted in the engine turning over. Only silence. In a panic we simply left the car in the cemetery and ran down the lane. We had no idea what we’d say, there was no lie to be BUILT. We were in big trouble.

After the sting had been tended and the truth of the car revealed, my mom went back with us to asses the situation. As it turned out we had left the car in drive when we turned it off. The only problem had been operator error. Our grand adventure ended with one fat lip, a few harsh lectures, and a lengthy period of significant restriction.

Heather

“The LODGE is the perfect place to relax, go SLACK,
cheerfully STALL and procrastinate, and indulge in SMALL delights.” I read out loud from the brochure. “Well, what do you think? Are you persuaded? Here, look at the pictures.” I hand you the brochure, eagerly scanning your face for any indication that you are willing to go. “I know it is not your usual choice, being more of a serious traveler, but I think that it could be nice to get away and rest.” I speak in a casual, off-handed way, certain that will get me what I want more than an urgent plea will.

Georg’ann

Sifting through years of ribbon and bows,
rolls, folds, and pieces of printed paper.
Out falls a silver SCRAP, a tag addressed to me from you.
Childlike printing in a SHADE of green,
the effect not unlike a celery STALK.
This SMALL treasurer waiting
in the folds of recycle and reuse
or pristine paper waiting it’s turn
to be cut, folded, taped, ripped, gathered
and put back in the wrapping box,
perhaps with some small scrap attached
destined to be a serendipitous gift
received in some future season of giving.

Heather

Speak up and lay CLAIM
Your LABOR is powerful
Sit at the TABLE

Georg’ann

Twinges of GRIEF whisper
within the twinkles
as I sit gazing at the tree,
lit with strands of sparkles
CHEAP red wine in hand,
unconsecrated yet still redeeming.

By myself in reverie, allowing
dark and light to play alongside.
So little required to bring me
into the fullness of everything.
The LEAST bits come together,
all welcome at this TABLE.

Heather

CHAIR by the OCEAN
Feet up, steaming cup o’ Joe
Gulls fight over BACON

Georg’ann

Seeking something to DRINK
after an early morning hike
we stopped at the Scenic View
perched above the snaky road
giving but a glimpse of the lake.

Settling in, hunger joined thirst
Early LUNCH, black bean burger
with a SCANT smear of brown mustard.
You went for brunch in a glass
a Bloody Mary that came like a centerpiece.
a crudité display, stalks and baubles galore
draped with 3 wide curls of BACON
gracing the vase-like glass as if it were ribbon.

Heather

Having looked up the CHART of countries, I think about how we COULD send it back. But do I still have the paperwork? Is it in a drawer, hidden under a random GLOVE? or lost in a frenzy of cleaning? I spin the GLOBE, a gift to you, made many years ago. It came with a promise that if countries changed, they would update it. We have ignored this so far, through boundary and names changes over the years. It makes me wonder: do we have places like that in our lives, our relationship? The outdated names for parts of ourselves that we refuse to adjust? I ponder and wonder, thinking how this will be a silly topic for us over dinner, like a pretend academic seminar. “Geopolitics: metaphor for love?”

Georg’ann

The mood had struck to get dressed super SMART. We hadn’t planned beyond the preparations, and really there was no where to go. Wondering the streets we FOUND a small tavern, set back in time, and ironically behind an old fashioned street CLOCK painted bright red. Inside everything was draped in evergreen garland and twinkling lights which reflected off the long mirror behind the dark, heavy wood bar. I took off my opera GLOVES and unbuttoned my long, wool coat. The overall atmosphere was cheerful and warm. We took our seats at the bar and each ordered a festive cocktail- yours sweet and pepperminty, mine layered with smoky spice. Above us you noticed a GLOBE of mistletoe and leaned forward for a kiss. Pulling apart we laughed, and continued our conversation without hesitation, drinks in hand.

Heather

At PEACE —
Enjoy end of day.
Full with SPICY pasta —
Savor lingering tastes.
Ready to write —
Pull TOPIC from thin air.

Georg’ann

QUERY has begun,
which PITCH resonates within-
crucial choir TOPIC.

Heather

To cast spell to protect against a card CHEAT, follow these instructions before your next game. Put dabs of animal BLOOD under the corners of the playing table. Then tie a red string around the table leg closest to true north, saying as you do so, “tricks be gone, deceit be shown, lies stand alone.” Then when you play cards, the deception will be exposed by the red stain that will appear on the hand of the WOULD-be cheater.

Georg’ann

Last night I turned waning apples
and long frozen cranberries
into a favorite comfort – fruit CRISP.
Thought I longed for the day to end,
let it be time to nestle in blankets.

Winds had BLOWN the WHOLE day.
Almost ready to take a hot shower,
slip on WOOLY socks and be still,
but not quite yet. The apples call.

In the kitchen listening to Koko Taylor’s earthy blues,
while measuring and mixing,
my body WOULD not stop its motion.
She is blowing me around,
I am carried away.

Heather

TOUGH days on the floor, found her with a wan and PASTY pallor. She could not wait to get home, STRIP off her scrubs, and unwind. Wrung out, wiped out, however you put it: she was SPENT after a 12 hour shift.

Georg’ann

1.
Within they wrestle.
Parts take their STAND,
you are SPENT.
SCENT of home, rest now.

2.
Walking to the STAND,
I smell the familiar SCENT
Cash soon will be SPENT

Heather

I almost HEARD it, the WHEEL of ideas turning in Mother’s head as she picked the THEME for the next dinner party. THESE were moments I looked forward to — the pondering, the playful consideration of the menu, the guest list, the centerpiece. Indeed, the anticipation was almost as delicious as the event itself.

Georg’ann

An empty PLACE.
Nothing QUITE right.
Nothing really wrong.
Fill it with this or that?
Definitely not THOSE,
but maybe THESE?

Heather

It is in this place that I became CLEAR
In this town, where I came to EXIST more fully
That I settled in and built
The contours of my life in this container
Beloved and well-worn survivor
It is, also, the brick and mortar expression of us
Where we hang out with our POSSE
Where we express all the things
The HOUSE on University Street

Georg’ann

Warm light in the COURT,
filtered through the soft fir BOUGH
Inside our HOUSE, peace.

Heather

Above the COUCH, a CHART, written in CHALK, lists who is the CHAMP of the week. The classroom-like urge to separate the wheat from the CHAFF doesn’t work so well in the home. Brenda still finds herself running around after children who are on the hunt for trouble. This never-ending CHASE can set off a CHAIN of events that she tries steer towards laughter (because who wants to cry?). And what were they thinking when they added a puppy, two kittens, and a rabbit to the mix?

Georg’ann

Your GHOST story shared.
Slow painful tears, not tingles.
Truth CHARM, CHAIN loosens.

Heather

Is it a CHEAT to SHOUT out
When you see the SHIRT
That will be the perfect gift?
Is it too much to give a shove,
To SHIFT heaven and Earth to reach the sale counter?
Holiday shopping frenzy changes all the rules!

Georg’ann

Rolling cookie DOUGH
Wind blowing the CHIME outside
SHIFT comes in small joys

Heather

The day? A TRIAL
The respite?
A glass of CHARD
A seat on the WHARF
A plate of cheese
SHARP knife at the ready

Georg’ann

Twinkle LIGHT, darkness
Winter PHASE brings clarity
SHARP contrasts abound.

Heather

She is working her way through the inventory, and next up is a Roman CAMEO of the god Neptune. She runs her finger down the INDEX, searching for the exact reference. It has been a month since Sylvia has come to work at the newly opened museum. The SWEEP and scope of the collection is a bit overwhelming. She had interned at another, smaller place and had been able to STEEP herself in the collection in just a year. This one felt like she would need many years to comprehend what was before her. But no point borrowing trouble. First she needs to make sure this stunningly carved god is indeed correctly catalogued. She is so engrossed that she doesn’t hear the steps coming behind her. And by the time she does, it is too late. Everything goes dark and when she talked about it later with the police, she struggled to explain. No, she hadn’t gone to SLEEP at work. No, she hadn’t heard anything
before she passed out. And no, she couldn’t explain where the piece of priceless Roman antiquity she had been working on had gone. Sylvia could not shake the sense that there was something she was missing, if only she could remember.

Georg’ann

I crave fresh squeezed JUICE,
quietly SPEAK goodbye.
Sate while still you SLEEP.

Heather

The old CLOCK chimed and instead of a cuckoo, out came the oddest pair. Hard to think of any OTHER situation where it would be okay, but a dinosaur paired with a snowman?? Somehow it worked for this silly Alpine cuckoo clock. We WOUND it again and again just to see them pop out of their doors and spin round, to the delight of an old WOMAN and her grandchildren. Their chuckles and giggles did much to relieve the tedium of working in my uncle’s antique shop.

Georg’ann

Uninvited GUEST
invades you, CHOIR sings sorrow.
Illness takes WOMAN

Heather

The appointment gave me pause. Understandable, I suppose: thinking about one’s aging brain is not a very comfortable PLACE to be. Still, I sit in the discomfort and ponder how to slow down the inevitable. In the process, I feel like the child at the dinner table pushing the undesirable bits of dinner ROUND the plate, to make it seem like she’s taken bites. I want to say to the universe, “may I be excused? May I leave this table of things I really don’t want?” Alongside this surging desire to run away, there is the stand and fight urge, to MOUNT a campaign as it were, to fight back. I imagine people saying, “she’s doing quite well for her age, isn’t she? Her mind is still so sharp, etc, etc.” Not to mention that awful wistful feeling: oh how I miss being YOUNG!

Georg’ann

What would happen if I wrote you nothing?
You would love me still, with understanding.
Such importance we place on accountability,
without honest expression of limitations,
Rarely acknowledging choice is possible.
Struggling to find words to MATCH my mood,
not wanting to SPOIL the practice, the tether.
You FOUND a pathway, let me join you there.
Today I wish to be YOUNG, the age of animal crackers
and mud pies. When stories were read to me
I was held in someone’s arms, no decisions to make.

Heather

CLEAR and ROUND —
I am seldom a source of WORRY —
My WORTH does not change —
Despite being locked away for a year,
I do not look my WORST
When you pull me out
And I look my best when you hang me up
What am I?
(A Christmas tree ornament)

Georg’ann

Since they’d met in preschool, Olive and Shirley had been inseparable. Fast friends and loyal supporters of one another no matter the situation. In the face of any trouble either would VOUCH for the other with a level of POISE and sincerity that always worked to deflect doubt.

Afterwards they liked to BOAST to themselves, and only to themselves, for they were far too clever to risk letting on about their mostly harmless antics or their tactics for avoiding detection. Birds of a feather, together they ruled the ROOST until the WORST came to pass…

Heather

Staring at the BLACK waters swirling under the WHARF, he hears some giggles and an unexpected exclamation of “NEATO!” Despite being somewhat hidden by the bait shop (closed at this late hour), he could hear the sound of running and more giggles. Detective Vincent Raleigh did not welcome this intrusion. The night and his own dark mood had placed its STAMP upon the moment. He shook his head, wondering if he would have to change his expression so that he didn’t frighten the teenagers (if that’s who they were). Sigh this was not what he needed right now: he was mulling over his last case. Oh well, perhaps they would take their shenanigans elsewhere. He would try to stay hidden or maybe he could walk past them. Alas, this was not to be. The sounds were changing – a very clear and distinct feminine “No!” could be heard. He couldn’t hear the reply but he knew the sounds of a scuffle. Raleigh stepped out to see – and too late he couldn’t see what was happening, but was that a splash? In a split second he was out and running – easy enough to ADAPT that dark mood into the energy needed to deal with whatever was happening.

Georg’ann

I admire the tenacity of a small patch of THYME
growing in isolation out of the pea gravel
along the walkway.
Whether clipped formally or left to sprawl,
as in neglected,
her delicate little leaves cling closely
to their tender upright stems,
cheery sprigs on gnarled, leggy growth.

Year round she softens the stone STAIR,
greeting all who pass with a scented caress.
Flavors the carrot soup, roasted vegetables,
and tea cakes, plucked leaf by leaf
or giving her essence full stemmed.

Oh that I were like this PLANT,
able to ADAPT so gracefully
to conditions and attentions
less than ideal, while effortlessly lending
softness and substance in every season.

Heather

I wasn’t AWARE of where it would lead —
I couldn’t know what it MEANT —
But the moment I asked,
A whole trajectory was launched:
“Pardon me, is this seat TAKEN?”

Georg’ann

With timid voice and words that are hard to decipher,
they tell me of the hiding PLACE, the interior closet
where still they are not safe.
Trying to describe a brain too full,
a brain too loud, over occupied within

We sit so still, tears falling
Yes, I, too have tears
while I muster all the calm, protective love I can
to soothe and steady us both.
I suspect the medication has not been TAKEN.

Heather

I took on a baking project today. Flustered and a bit ungrounded, I found it hard to SHAPE the loaf. This recipe, orange cinnamon swirl loaf is a familiar one, but I have not made it in decades. I am feeling now like I should have been content to let it EXIST only in my memory. Somehow I did manage to get it rolled up in what looked like a reasonable facsimile of how I remember it. Though, once I cut into I feel as if I was more of a MISER than I meant to be with the cinnamon and sugar. The orange peel looks quite pretty in the dough and the confectioner’s sugar glaze. The orange bits make me think of amber, though thankfully, unlike a hard chemical RESIN, they are tender and flavorful.

Georg’ann

Walking at day BREAK
black trees SCORE the pink blush sky
RESIN for my heart

Heather

Watching her daughter on stage, Victoria felt a little MISTY about the eyes. She was so grateful that Bella wanted to dance. Victoria had bent over backwards not to steer her to ballet, so as not to seem to be forcing Bella to follow in her footsteps. But in the end, her daughter seemed to love ballet as much as she did. Thankfully, the rest of the family didn’t mind. No one made an ISSUE of the piles of slippers and toe shoes, the spray cans of ROSIN, not to speak of what seemed like mountains of tutus, tights, skirts, sweaters, leg warmers, and leotards. Victoria smiled – it was such a delight, sitting in the auditorium and watching the rehearsal. So much magic as Bella and the rest of the children rehearsed for their big performance. Much to everyone’s delight, the ballet school planned a performance of “If I Were a SUSHI Roll,” a contemporary ballet scaled down for children. Even better, for the after party, Victoria and the other parents had scoured the Internet and had found recipes to make little bites of rice and cheese in the shapes of ballet slippers and tutus. Tedious as heck, but so much fun!

Georg’ann

SMART cat, warms itself
sun beams SHINE on wood, laughter,
SUSHI on table.

Heather

Wield a sword! Flex with all your MIGHT! SWEAR fealty to all that is good!Ginny pedaled so hard that every SPOKE on her bike blurred. Her ponytail streamed behind her. She and Jimmy yelled their battle cries, going like the wind. The empty field offers wide SCOPE for play, and Ginny and Jimmy and their friends are determined to make the most of it. Imaginary foes, vivid tales of heroics — no epic tale can top this gang of 10 year olds and their imaginations.

Georg’ann

It wasn’t meant to IMPLY anything,
intended as a simple PRANK.

Innocent and playful, yet
with light SPEED a fervor arose

the SCOPE of which couldn’t be
contained, your pain unbound.

Unintended implications, carelessly
released, regrets unceasing.

Heather