She really struggled to LEARN how to play tennis. On the COURT, she just couldn’t figure out how to get that extra SPURT of energy she needed to win.

Georg’ann

#1
STACK of papers
STACK of books
STACK the wood
STACK against
STACK of pancakes-
a short STACK
with SPURT of syrup,
for SPURT of energy.

#2
Words STACK against,
nothing inside to SPURT forth.

Heather

I COULD wait passively for the pharmacy to send me text: “your prescription for X is ready for pickup.” But it’s already been a week, and I am no longer optimistic that the system is working. I decided to BRAVE the madness and give a little shove to the automated system. “Should I tell the pharmacy you are on your way?” asks the automated voice. “Say yes or press one.” I press one, and then make it real: I drive to the pharmacy. I show up; I have kept my promise. Upon arrival, I see a veritable mountain of filled prescriptions, as if an army of doctors have decided the best way to lay siege to illness is to REFER to this one pharmacy. (Which I suppose is sort of true). Mine is not among them. Rather, as I suspected, my prescription is “in process.” I settle into the seat provided for those who wait. I listen to the piped in music that invites me to view this whole process as a MERRY
adventure where my true love will await me forever. I sigh and watch the crumbling of our world, where dysfunction prevails and “you will still be mine” pulses to a beat over it all.

Georg’ann

As the plans take shape,
resistance begins to ARISE
like a noxious vapor.
I feel myself sinking, heavy
no energy to EXERT.
Arise, sink
Expand, collapse
Like dough
Like breath

And there it is, the recognition
as sweet and satisfying as that
single BERRY beneath the leaf.
Polarity is how we’re designed.

We’ll go, I can make MERRY,
even as everything in me wants to retreat into solitude.
It is possible, in fact essential, to do both simultaneously.
This is the way I inhabit self
This is the way
This is the way
This is the way
Breathing full bellow breaths
This is the way

Heather

To SHARE a cozy spot,
To REVEL in a tiny gesture,
A slight adjustment to a BERET:
The sweetness of new love

Georg’ann

THICK slices of eggplant generously sprinkled with salt
sit on paper towels beginning their SWEAT.
While waiting for them to release excess moisture
I pull out on old photo album
the 1989 overseas study in Dijon, France.
Pages of picnics, canals, windows,
gardens, grey cows, fountains, stained glass,
chateau after chateau, a train DEPOT.
Laughing, dancing, traveling
with people I’ll never see again.

The last page, return visit at my mother’s.
There’s a softness in these pictures, a slight blur on everything,
as the sunlight moves through the airy curtains
reflects on the hardwood floors. Sparsely furnished
my brother sits on a small creaky armless rocking chair.
He’s 8, so joyous this day. Sister home, kitten in his lap.
Child’s beaming face with an impish grin, twinkling eyes.
Resting on brown curls, a perfectly cocked black BERET.

Heather

Sitting, QUIET at last, I stroke your hair. What a
CHAMP you have been through this whole thing – it’s not easy to be 3 and traveling. After a very fretful few moments that felt like hours, you have finally been able to CRASH. I avoid the eyes of the other passengers, trying to blot out their existence and the awareness that we are in tin box over the Atlantic. Curling around you, I make the most of our cramped COACH seats. It would be good to sleep before we land in O’Hare.

Georg’ann

Marilyn was in a quandary. Should she VOICE her opinion? She’d been wrestling with it all day. She didn’t want to BOTCH the project, screw the POOCH as they say. She had a sense that the concept they wanted to pitch wouldn’t land well. And yet knew if she said something the entire team would turn on her. They really liked their concept. Sitting on the COUCH, she tried to remember what she’d learned from that leadership COACH she’d worked with years ago, but nothing helpful came to mind.

She decided to call her friend Lynda, who sometimes helped resolve indecision by consulting with her pendulum on Marilyn’s behalf. It was an avenue to try, the circling stone on a chain would at least temporarily cease the circling of thoughts in her head.

Heather

I hustle down the steps
Search above and BELOW
Shove aside all the mail “ELECT me” “Buy this”
A glance at my watch
Causes me to LIVEN my step
An AGILE sweep through the room
At last! With a SMILE
I claim them:
My keys!

Georg’ann

Bringing the WHOLE family together
was like navigating Escher’s Relativity.
At first glance a simple series of steps
coming from different directions.
Quickly it becomes clear
no ANGLE will align with another.
Everyone on their own plane,
starting from their own reality.
We CYCLE through plan after plan
puzzling, certain there is a solution
so at least a few arrive in the same place
at the same time, if only for brief connection.
Finally we see, impossibility is the way it’s drawn
in black and white, a fantastical conception.
I sigh, then SMILE, Absurdity is the art we live.

Heather

It was with a sense of new beginning, a new LEASE on life as the saying goes,that she buckled down to the hard, focused LABOR of starting her own restaurant. She planned to use only LOCAL resources for this endeavor, hoping to generate a LOYAL and committed customer base. It made her both giddy and terrified to get started.

Georg’ann

Driving to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, we stopped for lunch at a little restaurant just off the highway, about 20 minutes north, called The WHOLE Enchilada. SOLID fare, a LOCAL favorite.

My little sister, 23 years my junior and age 9 at the time, could not eat all of her meal. With matter of fact earnestness she asked the waiter to keep the leftovers stored in the refrigerator until we passed back by on our way home. The request was honored, of course. Who could possibly resist such a sincere and assured child?

After a day of being mesmerized by swaying kelp, delighted by sea otters, fascinated by innumerable sea creatures, and intrigued by the many patterns in the LORAL regions of numerous seabirds we made our way back to the restaurant where Kira was given her styrofoam box of chicken nachos to finish when she wished.

To this day my sister remains LOYAL to her values, never hesitating to make common sense requests in situations where simple solutions are rarely sought. No one can resist the direct look of her light aqua eyes or her velvety voice speaking with disarming confidence, so innocent and yet so wise.

Heather

ALLOW me, please, a PROUD moment as I hold FORTH about my dears, my family who have had the MOXIE to stand up and fight to make the world a better place. Each has hit more than one ROCKY moment, and yet, has persevered. I adore them, I appreciate them, I strive to be their equal in commitment and creativity. My heart is full and I love you all.

Georg’ann

When I was 12, I had a paper ROUTE. Heavy canvas bag slung over my shoulder. I’d march up the steep hill on Allen Street about half a mile away to the small apartment complex that was my exclusive territory.

My husband also had a paper route around the same age, though in a different decade and a different state, that took him up a steep hill. He rode through the neighborhood throwing papers from his bike.

Come collection day, I regularly used my profits to buy ROCKY road ice cream for myself and the neighbors. Carlos used his to buy milkshakes for his friends.

Though we were years apart in age, traveling up and down different hills, with different stories, we were destined I suppose. Forever bonded by a love of ice cream, keeping up with the news, and a tendency to spend our last pennies on some generous indulgence rather than saving them for a rainy day.

Heather

Settling down at the table, cozy and ready to dream a little, he pulled out the maps he had been collecting. He hoped it would make a WHALE of a tale, one to last the whole winter: a trip alone with his faithful HOUND at his side, setting out to hike in the White Mountains. His goal was a week, with a plan to PITCH a tent each night, carrying everything he and the dog would need for the whole journey. It would be a TIGHT schedule, given how close it would be to the first snows. But if he planned well and kept the goal in SIGHT, the timing should be RIGHT.

Georg’ann

Watching Women Talking

In a few simple lines the WHOLE story was exquisitely limned.
Sparse set, cinematography, and pacing were an elegant MATCH
for the PITHY prose spoken, or emotions wordlessly conveyed.
Every cast member moment an artistic achievement.
Layers of subtleties and detail pulled the viewer in, palpable.
We felt TIGHT in our chest, holding our breath
especially anticipating the final FIGHT.
Building, oh so RIGHT, of the final scene –
rendering arc, the pain and promise of exodus.

Heather

Looking out at the window, I shrugged off the FLAKE or two that was falling. And so I stayed working at the library until closing time. Stepping out, head full of research and thoughts of the future, I paid little attention to the sidewalk. “Oh my!” I exclaimed, caught unawares by the slickness of wet snow. I threw my arms out and caught a man by surprise. He instinctively grabbed me, encircling my waist as neatly as a well-flung LASSO. Embarrassed and more than a little confused, spewing forth apologies, I raised my head to what must have been one of the most beautiful beings on Earth. And what’s more, he seemed the very definition of VALOR – instincts causing him to spring into action. But before dear Reader, you turn this into some cute-meet scene, indeed, the perfect winter romance, (hot cocoa and invitations to
CAROL through the neighborhood not optional!), let me hasten to explain that this was in fact my younger brother who had come to pick me up. He just didn’t know he was going to do so in such a literal fashion. “You should really pay more attention, sis. But hey, nice Moro reflex you got there!” “Thanks,” I said, ruffling my feathers back into place, so to speak and continuing with, “where’s the car parked?”

Georg’ann

Sitting side by side on the metal mesh picnic table,
silence, after layers of conversation.
We marvel at the quality of the late summer LIGHT
limning the marshy plants with rose gold.
A flock of geese floating on the water.
Out of the trees across the inlet
we watch a bald eagle PLANE
toward the causeway, then flap mighty wings,
lifting skyward, disappearing beyond the dam
at the far end of the lake.

A metaphoric flight of relinquishing, accepting,
moving with grace, into the great beyond
The death flight of which we’ve been talking

No words spoken as our attentions turn
to the bright colors in the SALAD
harkening us back to times fresh and crisp.
day waning
season waning
life waning

Too soon the season of darkness will be upon us.
What CAROL will be sung in the evergreen
boughs of sorrow, flanking the sanctuary.

Heather

Leaning in close, I could see that what appeared to be the LEAST STONE in the tiara was, in fact, quite rare. That’s when the idea began to take shape, all based on this blue diamond.

Georg’ann

Yearning for a RAINY day
to stay swaddled in cozy covers,
the room and me so still
Listening to the SOUND
of patters on the roof
and purring by my side.
The scent of a warm SCONE,
baked with a STONE fruit,
peach or plum, wafting
without having to rise
and make them myself.
This is my magic wish
slow weighted rest,
some sweet tender crumb,
outer and inner worlds
cleansed by morning rain.

Heather

Quick, FLASH the light
Now, STAMP your feet
Three times to the left,
Three times to the right
We SCARE the goblins
We SNARE the pixies
In the still of the night

Georg’ann

Damnit, she’d done it again. Taken the bait, felt the tug, and then the piercing of the hook. No escape possible, just the desperate thrashing.

Now, hours later, Helen stood at the kitchen counter BLOWN away by her inability to navigate the oh so familiar waters. Compulsively eating tortilla chips dipped in a mix of salsa and RANCH dressing, she marveled at the level of ANGER that came so quickly, how perfectly placed the SNARE.

Heather

To TRADE
HOUSE in charming Midwestern college town for apartment in Paris. Prefer location on left bank, CLOSE to Jardin du Luxembourg.

Georg’ann

Children LAUGH, whoosh, splash
delight on creek bed SLIME slope
Kept CLOSE in heart space

Heather

I am not READY. That much is clear to me, this thing that cuts me like a SHARP knife – wait, no, that’s not it – it’s more like the exquisitely painful paper cut. The kind that takes you by surprise, that you didn’t see coming as you moved swiftly and thoughtlessly, shuffling what you had considered to be a harmless set of papers.

I am not prepared. Not to feel this creeping sense of being FRAIL, of a heaviness in my heart, the careening forward of time towards its inevitable end.

Who can be ready for the unknown? What sort of preparation is even possible when the path is not clear? FRANK, careful assessment and planning will get me only so far.

I reach for you. These dark thoughts in the dark night are isolating. The paradox asserts itself yet again: this, the most alone thing I will ever do can only be faced by not being alone.

I turn and drape my arm over you, feeling your breath. I yield, welcoming sleep, safe at last.

Georg’ann

When I marvel at softness it reminds me
of what it means to be brittle,
how easy it is to BREAK,
how easy to CRACK
and so difficult to yield.
What would it mean to move with, not against?
To step aside,
to make room,
to cushion the fall,
to part like water.

To part like water,
to hold like water
to flow like water
to steep like water
Slowly smoothing with a softness
strong enough to find its way through rock.

When I marvel at softness I’m greeted with paradox.
The essence of a Taoist PRANK,
though one that will FRANK safe passage.

When I marvel at softness I break open.

Heather

We sit around the fire,
A circle of tired faces.
We SHARE a charred bit of this,
An undercooked slice of that.
After, our hands are busy:
You TWIST and knot ropes,
I take up a needle to mend a hole
We tell tales of BISON we never saw;
We speak of love lost or cherished
And sometimes both.
We sing, finding MUSIC
To be like honey,
Making this cowboy’s life a little sweeter.

Georg’ann

YOUTH, it goes too QUICK.
I miss it with my child,
with all the children in my life.
Just that sentence written
memories roll through me like marbles.
Each beautiful, shimmering ball a portal
to the full experience, magical
like a Willy Wonka chocolate.

Sitting here at my table, so tired.
Am I conscious?
Every word coming from something
akin to LUCID dreaming.
If thoughts were a spice mine would be CUMIN,
earthy and complex, just a bit gritty.
Tonight no more MUSIC, please.
Any sound too much stimulus.
The marbles have found their resting place.
And so must I.

Heather

PLACE hands just so –
EXERT pressure –
The smallest shift is a success

Georg’ann

Writing in HASTE, carving out a moment
of connectivity, to this practice
And quite literally. Signal found intermittently,
most reliable here in the common bathroom
sitting on a wood bench next to the shower stalls,
Listening to laughter ERUPT, unexpected
like the delight of jewelweed seed pods bursting
today at the murky edge of the lake,
an EGRET stood among the carpet of lily pads
in silence we stood still, taking in untended splendor.
earlier we created habitats of safety
for small plastic animals, representations of self.
Then wandered here, to the gently movement
of an aging dock, warm sun penetrates
Wildflowers, cattails, grasses enclose softly.
We’ve traveled far today, sleep will be sound.
This laughter is applause for the effort I EXERT
to bring people home to themselves.

Heather

I do hate to throw SHADE, my dear, but just AMONG us friends, weren’t you horrified by that ghastly TONAL mess performed at the salon put together by the BARON? It was so painful and loud – I swear I thought that RAYON dress the Baroness was wearing would melt or shred or something! Sound waves can do that, can’t they? Well I certainly hope that is the last time I have to hear something like that!

Georg’ann

COUNT my blessings? Does counting a beach worth of sand one grain at a time move the heart to awe? It is in appreciation for the expanse, the depth, the shifts that I feel the magnitude of my blessings.
And yet each grain has the possibility to become a pearl. We need both the microscopic and the infinite.

In the next room you SNORE, soft sputters of breath tonight.
I imagine the slump of you falling off your pillow piles.
Under the worn blanket,
lanky legs at all angles.
No BARON here, only a common man at rest
on 500 thread count RAYON blend sheets.
Each thread a blessing woven into the silky cocoon that holds you.

Heather

The FLAME was shining brightly through the window. I smiled, knowing she had lit a candle as a welcome home gesture. I could tell, too, that she had taken a chunk of the day to CLEAN. It had been years since the glass had been that CLEAR. My heart was full and I couldn’t help but walk more quickly. Her actions spoke volumes about how I would be received, despite the harsh words we had spoken that morning.

Georg’ann

SCOPE widens, delight
Chats with CLERK like self before
It’s CLEAR pain is gone

Heather

Dodging the MOVER who was there to load the truck, Michelle reached for the spray bottle at her WAIST. She quickly cleaned the table top. There, she thought with some satisfaction. It pained her that they were having to move; this place meant so much to her. It was here that they had built a family and a community. It was helping to apply her WHISK broom, her dust cloth. It felt like a wiping away of the old – each swipe of a cloth and push of the broom released shame and guilt into the atmosphere. Let this truly be a new start, she prayed, turning with satisfaction before starting on the next room.

Georg’ann

Coming off the woody TRAIL, Shirley is tired and hungry, lagging behind her mama but still with enough energy to play with the bits of sunlight that SHINE on her metal water bottle as she swings it around. At the spot where the path turns into a parking lot a lone banana sits on the pavement, as if it had been placed there just for her by the CHIMP fairy. She bends down to pick up this fortuitous snack and discovers no fruit, only an empty peel. Someone’s tidy attention to eating and random refuse art installation?

This empty banana peel opens the full display of 4 year old’s overly tired and hungry despair. Shirley begins to wail. Her mother, just opening the car door, turns and runs back to WHISK her up into loving arms. Carrying the sobbing sack, Shirley’s mother coos tender comforts. When they reach the car, she puts Shirley down and pulls out the snack pack containing animal crackers AND a banana. Sitting on the curb, Mother and daughter giggle as they pretend to be monkeys at a tea party.

Heather

A HEART- shaped rock in the CREEK brings back the memory of a blue-eyed honey at a RODEO. For just a moment, I am caught between my younger and OLDER selves – pinned like a butterfly, a moment suspended in time.

Georg’ann

The Co-op hallway

Waiting my turn for the restroom, I peruse the silver wall
filled with myriad notices announcing quite the gamut of things
to do, learn, attend, seek, find.
The edges of my mouth lift, my shoulders lower in response
to the sense of community felt
in this PLACE, all the offerings of this hallway.
Most noteworthy the bathrooms with no locks
on their doors, no signs posted “for customers only”
BLESS those that keep them pristine, such care.
Gratitude for the tidy space in the stalls and on the walls.
Each FLIER neatly taped, posting date subtly noted.
None is OLDER than a couple of weeks.
My favorite today? The cat video cinema event & fundraiser.
Whiskers, Vinnie, Eclipse, Brocious, Mercedes & friends need our help!
Oh so happy to assist! A frisky feline festival is in order.
Dear reader, research has been done, it is proven:
Watching cat videos is good for mental health.

Heather

Go, mio caro, to the Piazza. Let your eyes be captivated by the play of light amid the droplets of water from the SPRAY of the fountain.

Go, mio amore, go OFTEN, so that you can join the others who seek solace in the light of the square.

Go, mio caro, allow yourself to EMOTE with abandon. QUOTE the poets, sing an aria, dance to the tune of your heart.

Go, mio amore, feel a part of something bigger in this place where centuries have seen lovers embrace, quarrel, weep, and reunite.

Though we are miles apart, in these moments, you will feel my arms around you, my kiss upon your lips.

Georg’ann

“Her eyes SHINE like pie pans on a fence post”, she indicated as a favorite childhood QUOTE directed to her by an adoring grandfather.

Heather

I could lay CLAIM to a robust complaint, you know
I could, justifiably, SCOLD you for a month of Sundays
You have been like a LEECH: too close, too draining, and kinda icky
LUCKY for you (and me) I believe in second chances
Let’s have the difficult talk
Let’s dig deep and find the source
Let’s commit to continuing to love

Georg’ann

Winded old man blows into a FLUTE
sputters of wind down the hole, like a panting dog
no graceful gliding of breath
over the gap resonating with clear notes.
Not easy on the ears; it’s not music for them
This music is a duet played with my heart strings,
always melodious no matter the mood.

The GHOUL circling our home, vulture like, has gone
seeking other prey, death no longer knocking at our door.
We’ve been given a reprieve, an unexpected spring.

Butterflies and hummingbirds dance in the CURLY vines,
fragrant with abundant delicate white sweetness.
As if our garden knows to ready now for a wedding feast.
Lilies, roses, and gladiolus have withered.
LUCKY, we have no need for funeral flowers.

Heather

It felt positively SOLID, a thud and “oof.” The fact that it occurred in the WORST, most unpleasant dream of falling and landing did nothing to mitigate the sense of hitting the hard ground, or a rock ledge or whatever it was that her unconscious mind had dredged up. What time is it anyway? Time to roll over and try to sleep more or time to ROUSE herself from the cosy nest of blankets?

Georg’ann

The Children’s Museum & Streets Beyond

Coming in from a walk along the lake
we are greeted by a wide wall of faces
that spin individually, each in its own clear case.
Faces made with scraps of paper and PASTE.
No two alike, on their own whimsical.
Pieced and placed together, a diverse community
secure on this SHORE

Further inland conditions are WORSE
Worn faces stare out from homes
made with scraps of cardboard.
Pieced and placed in isolation,
steady pulse of people passing by
does not ROUSE anyone to anything.

Heather

Stepping into the museum is an invitation into the imagination of others. I pause in front of a large canvas. Inside the FRAME there is a world. I EXIST in my own time and space, and now, standing in this museum, I  wonder what it would be like to step into this other world. I imagine how it would be to be BELOW those trees, to watch the mill WHEEL turn, to watch the women washing clothes along the banks of the river. I image how it would be to DWELL down the lane, no doubt in a cottage, just beyond the view of the painting. I sink onto the bench, provided for contemplation and lose myself a while longer. I surrender to the artist’s view, a welcome escape from my own.

Georg’ann

I buy the discounted rosé
for the color play on the label.
Velvety cream with a watercolorish circle
of golden peachy pink hues
the SHADE and shape of Sunday’s sunset.
Bright warm ball hovering
over the silhouetted tree line
at the end of the corn field.
A glint of coral reflecting off a silver silo
adds dimension to the bucolic scene.

This humble wine now holds an expectation
to be the taste of sunset, chilled.
Ah, Italian life in the midwestern MODEL.
There is no DEVIL in these details,
my bloodline is to DWELL in sensual attentions.

Heather

You could hear him SWEAR almost as loudly as the BLAST that had been made when they widened a hole in the wall. Standing in front of it, the gaping hole looked more like a CHASM. And this was not just any wall – this was the Great Wall. He and his companion looked at one another in horror. What had they done? They knew there was no way to QUASH this story – they would be found out and it would be all over the world press. Never before had he had occasion to GNASH his teeth, but now certainly seemed like the right time. She said, “there is nothing to be done except drive through as we planned and maybe it will take a while for them to notice.” Sighing, they climbed into the excavator and drove away.

Georg’ann

Leaving the party, Dorian wasn’t in any SHAPE to drive, though no one tried to stop her. Honestly they might not have even noticed when she left. About half a mile down the road was a sharp turn. The road curved, her car kept straight, the trajectory of which was a sweet little clapboard cottage. The fast moving vehicle finally came to an abrupt stop, otherwise known as a CRASH, in the middle of someone’s living room.

Dorian, AWASH in confusion, simply passed out. She awoke to a bright FLASH and loud voices all talking at once. For a moment she assumed she was still at the party, the memory of having left was vague. Perhaps she hadn’t?

Slowly the reality of the situation became clear. There would be no way to QUASH this story. All the details would come out, including how many pills were in her glove compartment STASH. Oh yes, she would be a tasty morsel for the journalists to GNASH, their words like sharp teeth. It dawned on Dorian that she had come to the end of her life and arrived in hell. She wished she were dead.

Heather

I plan a small QUEST. I plan to cross the PLAIN, and I will seek out the BRICK church, next to the stand of BIRCH trees. I know that I will find what I am seeking in the cemetery there.

Georg’ann

In the sand a piece of METAL catches my eye,
copper colored alloy dotted with green patina.
A ROUND rivet with a sharp, asymmetrical missing piece.
This little trinket bears the marks of time, water and sand.
Careful not to PRICK my finger, as I turn it round,
trying to decipher worn words on the flat space
In the shade of a BIRCH, without sun glare to blind
I can clearly see, my archeological find
imprinted with these words: Wrigley Field!

Heather

In a BLINK the scene changes: A CHAIR moved here, the table shoved aside there. We give one another high FIVES and with a shimmy and a shake move to the center of the floor. You play it DITZY; I will play it GIDDY. Let the evening improv begin!

Georg’ann

Climbing down the enclosure narrows
a subtle TAPER, we are inside a carrot
part of the underground exhibit, FOUND
as an offshoot on our way
to the Egyptian no longer buried treasures.
Stolen goods and bodies preserved, difficult to fathom.
Suddenly DIZZY, descending the interior of this root
Squeezing through the tip, we find ourselves
part of the dirt, nothing more than particles
Amused we begin to softly sing,
a BIDDY nearby purses her lips
disapproving of our little DIDDY
She misses the irony that makes us GIDDY
We’re delighted to explore life
in the underground, on our way to death

Heather

Yellow paper CROWN on her head
Purple ribbon ’round her WAIST
Keenly AWAIT
Time for the playdate

Georg’ann

This trip, a necessary PAUSE
far away from daily habits
and the usual suspects.
Here we ADORN our days
with unhurried discoveries.

Impossible to AFFIX specific memories,
she will archive her own,
stored in an ATTIC hope chest
to AWAIT future reminiscence.

Today we built the past,
held sweetly in the future.
Though perhaps this day is more
like cotton candy, immediately dissolving.

Heather

Walking by the house MUSIC pumping out to the street
Sing along, catch the beat
See the dances moves
Through the window
Can you guess?
Dare you INFER?
Dinner prep underway
It’s a beautiful day
Smell the ONION
Do the salsa
Set the table
Join me
if you are able!

Georg’ann

Lunch on the Pier

Indoors, reprieve from the sun
bustling yet surprisingly relaxed
Tables shared, chairs given
You and I sit at right angles
Laughing at the volume
of grease on the paper PLATE

SOUND of diversity all around
So many languages
each a piece of music
whose composers are not KNOWN to me

Tying language to lunch,
we’ve just learned that in Algonquin
this city’s name is related to ONION

All day surrounded by bodies
shapes, colors, and adornments
as varied as the cityscape,
integrated in this place

the tour guide stated: Walk
pay attention to what surrounds you,
look at the world differently
with each step, notice
He said it made him feel hopeful to do so

Sitting here laughing over grease stains,
surrounded by strangers, noticing
I, too, feel hopeful

Heather

“Well, that’s a different question,” I said. “Perhaps when you are less TIRED we can try again.” I gently pulled him towards me, trying to reduce the distance between us, both literally and figuratively. It felt like he was looking at things on a different SCALE, mired in the details and too narrow a focus: the now felt eternal. I recognize this moment. It’s a piece of the dance we do in our relationship – one of us focused narrowly, worried about where to put a foot, and the other zoomed out to SPACE, where the whole, its patterns and arc can be viewed. Thankfully, we take turns in this dance. Its tempos and rhythms are constantly changing, and our willingness to see the wonder and magic of the process is what has kept us together.

Georg’ann

Embarking from a creepy hotel in Calmut, heading north to Chicago, I’m somewhat distracted by the lion mane girl in the backseat who is enthusiastic about all things, and happy to notice another wind turbine even as our view is increasingly urban. We are heading directly to the Lincoln Park Zoo, and I am anticipating the first sight of the skyline -so excited for her reaction. She has never seen a city. We SPEAK of little things, like how she thinks the folded washcloth tucked into the hand towel in the hotel looked like french fries and the how the toothpaste I got was too spicy.

Well prepared for our fist vacation together, we each brought a SPARE pair of glasses and a deck of cards to play if we need a little rest. She pulled them out yesterday, fidgeting, and made up a story about the Jack of SPADES as we were driving. Like me as a child, her imagination is a constant companion. She observes the world around, attuned to detail. Making up stories, so much curiosity. Her memories, questions, and comments, at times, catch me off guard.

Just before the anticipated skyline comes into view she says, “I have a poem about SPACE but I’m shy to share it.”

Heather

The crowd gathers ABOUT the steps of the church. It is time to BLESS the BRIDE.

Georg’ann

While away the day
savor is not WASTE, CRONE knows
BRIDE scurries, still young

Heather

I sit in the garden, my senses attuned to this moment. It is a PEARL of an August day with hints of fall. Gently, the leaves float on a breeze that almost moves me out of my chair to get a sweater. I am so content just looking ABOUT and noticing what is there. Alas, an intruder – the breaking of peace in the form of noise, a most unpleasant beeping and sounds of machines. Not the AUDIO I wanted for this moment. With a sigh, I retreat, choosing a moment between beeps to go, wanting to leave on a positive note of silence.

Georg’ann

QUITE sweaty, much dance
HUMID night, full moon rising
AUDIO grooving

Heather