I try to suppress a FROWN – it never works out well to be in a HURRY when running errands with a toddler. I notice my instinct to REACT with a snap or a chivvy along – is it necessary? How urgent are our errands? I stop and try to see — really see — what is in front of me. Cheerful tot, your response to the moment is surely better than mine. Let me see if I can CAPER alongside you, scamper down the sidewalks, ooh and aah at the bugs, chase a pigeon or two. The busy day can wait, for these are the errands that are eternal and neverending. What we share right now can slip through the cracks of our lives like a gentle breeze sweet but quickly gone, leaving no trace, perhaps not even a memory.

Georg’ann

Scented STEAM rises
PEACH crisp cools, piquant pasta-
lemon and CAPER

Heather

I COULD get going:
Build up some STEAM;
Marshal my troops;
Pull together my words.
I would sort them like by like,
As if creating a TRIBE of
Emotive words here,
A clan of Action words there.
Or, I might go meta,
And WRITE about writing
Which, my dear friend,
I think I just did!

Georg’ann

To be SOUND, I walk
Woodland TRAIL with sunlit webs
inspires me to WRITE

Heather

I PASTE and smooth
I PLACE and adjust
Collage of PEACE blooms on the page

Georg’ann

I’d like to be a porch SWING
to ADORE suspension in liminal space,
often still, expectant, inviting
waiting to be moved
by breezes,
by heavy winds,
by cats jumping up to nap
by foot propulsion
or the swinging of little legs
a PLACE that evokes leisurely afternoons,
conversations with friends
tea, lemonade, crisp buttery cookies-
Refreshment, oh yes
to be a thing that evokes ease and patience
Giving only an occasional creak
as I sway us back to PEACE

Heather

With a WEIRD IRONY
In the midst of the RIOTS
The CHOIR sang

Georg’ann

FIRST came the cracking
an empty bowl in pieces 
IRONY, CHOIR sings

Heather

Stretched out on the BEACH, I can feel the sand shift. I sought solitude and found it: no random conversation, no child to CAPER by, no traffic sounds. Only the birds. I hold an ACUTE awareness that my beloved OCEAN is not what it was. And in this moment, this frightening global loss tangles itself up with personal loss: the loss of dreams, of childhood fantasies, of people loved and gone. I sit with this, the emotions heaving and rolling like the waves. I shift my position, the sand stretches out before me.

Georg’ann

Watching out the kitchen window
Her back to me as she walks away
Slightest hesitation, barely a PAUSE
in motion but it’s there.
We sense each other, palpable
the band stretching has yet to break.
Everything in me suspends
Knife in my hand ceases to slice
BREAD, prism rainbows GLEAM
on the toaster, the walls, the cat’s belly.
Even the foam on my coffee cup
as if I were a sorceress casting spells
I will her these dancing rays of light
magical devotions to carry should assurance be needed
All this in a nanosecond
Bread knife continues gently sawing
through the hearty WHEAT
Today the vastness of the OCEAN
is contained in the space between
the counter and the garden gate

Heather

I think how GREAT it is, to be able to LOWER myself onto the FERNY slope. I PERCH above the lake, soaking in the sweetness. This spot can SERVE me well: a refuge and an inspiration. VERVE and creativity return with every moment on the green hill. I let the tension build: savoring the space between inspiration and action.

Georg’ann

Waking to the sound of water by my ear,
realize my cat is letting loose her bladder.
Thus begins the day.
Stripping the bed, I am thankful
that only sheets and blankets are wet.
Though the mattress does have a large STAIN
from some past spill, maybe a child?
Laundry, my least favorite CHORE.
So many steps before completion.
This mess will be 4 loads.
Coming up from the basement,
on the VERGE of tears.
Both my husband and my cat are elderly,
coming apart at their seams.
VERVE diminishes bit by bit, decline
While mine waxes and wanes, restless

Heather

My HEART gave a little flutter — is this just a FLUKE? Or this tender SCENE of love and affection to be more the norm? Can I count on this dash of SPICE to be a part of our romance going forward?? I gratefully bury my nose in the rose bouquet, then coyly pull the note from the gift box. I could get used to this real quick.

Georg’ann

This morning I FOUND the first recipe ever given to me-
tucked among papers, pens, rubber bands, 
magnets, twist ties, pill boxes readers
in the quintessential kitchen table junk drawer. 
Torn in two pieces at the fold, stained, faded. 
My aunt’s swirly handwriting measuring 
the ingredients for my delight, step by step. 
Dated, 1974, ending with a thanks to me 
for having given her the recipe cards.
Pushing back my CHAIR, 
I pull out a STICK of butter, 
already anticipating the first SLICE
Aunt Wick’s SPICE cake, warm 
and comforting. 

[Unlike the kitchen where I first ate it, 
Every bit like the one in which I’ll bake it today.]??

Heather

On days like this, when the heat hits like a most unpleasant STEAM bath, I am more than ever AWARE of living in a landlocked state. In reaction, a longing wells up inside of me- I want to make a plan, pull together some determination and focus, fix a BEADY eye on the prize and just go! Go to the BEACH where summer ick is soothed by waves, sand, and the cries of gulls. Where heat and humidity are more easily tolerated, where my toes can wiggle in wet sand.

Georg’ann

Trivia night in the musty basement bar, 
our team gets, “1965 movie starring 
Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello?”
I quickly SHOUT, 
“BEACH Blanket Bingo!”
We win the round, thanks 
to childhood afternoons 
spent watching local channel 4
on a tiny black and white tv. 
Our prize- drinks on the house. 
Cheers to those long ago lonely days!

Heather

It is a puzzle: how to find the PLACE to EXERT the right amount of pressure. I remain convinced that locating this imagined spot will create a yielding that will further my QUEST.

Georg’ann

Paddling my CANOE
Water moves aside, stays QUIET
QUEST comes unbidden

Heather

With a LAUGH
We AMEND the rift
Let us value PEACE
Betwixt and between us
Refuse to EXACT a penance, 
A punishment, a penalty:
The bumps and tension
Of relationship act as Lemon and salt in the cake, 
Pulling together the experience and the ability to savor the sweetness 

Georg’ann

Hip, hip, hurray it’s Friday 
a cool day with nothing on the schedule
To the woods! 
A simple picnic of BREAD and cheese 
PAUSE to slice a MEATY tomato 
No EXACT time to depart, nor to return
muscles coiled like cobras now unfurl
slither into the bountiful brush

Heather

BONUS POEM!
Sitting in the dining room, sipping coffee
looking through photo albums
Noting the loud birdsong this morning
In the corner of my eye a buck strolls past the window
Moving along the alley where typically neighbors 
walk their dogs or toddlers
Moments later comes another, 
and then a third, a 3 generation parade. 
Today’s newspaper headline, 
an ordinance has passed: Do not feed the deer

Everything in her house was CREAM colored. From LAMPS to the art she was forever finding to the rugs and curtains. Her ability to AMASS items around this theme had led some members of her social circle to wonder if there was something slightly AMISS, as if the need to surround oneself with white must surely indicate some stain that was being covered up. Whatever the motivation, it made visits to her home stressful, as her obsession didn’t necessarily extend to the food and drink so generously laid out. Nothing makes a party hum quite like the worry of spilling a robust Cabernet on a plush white rug or splashing a gazpacho all over the pristine white tablecloth.

Georg’ann

In the garden cherry tomatoes sprawl
Tentacles filled with green balls 
that refuse to ripen, 
no tangy reds or sugar sweet yellows 
Tiny leafed BASIL cowers under the tangled mass
My QUASI garden feeds a brazen rat 
as we watch from the window. 
Earlier this season, birds ate every sacred raspberry.
I got not one berry of any kind. 
No more pleasure will ARISE 
from the efforts put forth in spring
when the earth was a canvas full of promise
Summer came, my painting went AMISS

Heather

It is a GREAT relief–
To be far removed from the SCORN of others;
To be able to SCRUB my calendar clean of obligation:
To fill it in with wants and wishes!
This, my friend, is what it can mean to be retired from the work world.

Georg’ann

Late one night, when I was a child 
a small group of adults took me 
on an adventure, we skated on a pond
within visible distance of highway 37, 
the ice was SOLID under the December stars.
As we glided, a stranger came walking 
across the STARK corn fields 
Car trouble, maybe a SCREW loose
They all went to help, left me alone
Fearful I tried to catch up
walking over broken corn stalks and SCRUB 
in my skates, ankles aching, so unsteady.
Later we got hot cider at a fast food chain. 
It still plays like a movie scene
never quite real, though so vivid. 
The crisp air, the clear sky, the crunchy ground, 
the wobbly walk, the horror film ambiance
50 years later, the pond and field remain 
to the right of the 1st southbound exit into town

Heather

I am sad that I often wake up with no memory of a DREAM: no snippets of nighttime imaginings run rampant, no perplexing stories to interpret. Alas, I do not think that I can command my brain to produce nightly adventures, no internal EDICT would work. You might wonder what drives me to want a sleep interrupted by weird nighttime meanderings. After all, we often speak of dreamless sleep as extra restful. But I am feeling the lack of mystery and wonder. I want to WIDEN my experience of self, of my own marvelous brain. To enjoy a catalog of unconscious ramblings, perhaps even develop an INDEX to the secret, curious parts of my self. What an exciting thing that would be – a sense that I have not figured myself out completely. Might even make me feel hopeful.

Georg’ann

WHEAT in the fields never SPOKE 
about bread at least 
not while I was listening

encapsulated, the DIVER descends 
into depths that speak silently 
She, a pillar of salt unable 
to dissolve, wrapped as she is

We IDLED away our days 
gathering a meaningless INDEX 
Yet in the end learned nothing 
from the land nor the sea.

Heather

What a SCARE! 
I tried to STAMP it away
What a SNAFU!
It was only a slug
A slimy SNAIL without a shell
A glance, a touch led me wrong 
Convinced ’twas a SNAKY threat
And now the slug will slime no more

Georg’ann

Sitting at the bar, my face to the door I had a front row to the spectacle as she made her entrance. Pulling the large gold, curved deco door handle toward her as if the heavy glass doors were a dance partner, their movements carefully choreographed. 

This one tipped the SCALE. immediately earning my STAMP of approval even as I felt the swirl of disdain move through the stillness of the room, carried on the slow push of wind that came when the seal of the door was broken. 

SWANK from head to toe, in a dress that could only be described as SNAKY, this elegant python slowly slithered past me as she headed toward an empty booth at the back of the room. I kept my eyes forward, while watching her in the reflection of the tinted windows.

Heather

To get your heart’s desire under the new moon, SWEAR to speak only the truth. Bury five FOUND objects in shallow hole, Tie a QUILL, sharp and long to the nearest tree,  Say out loud 3 times in QUICK succession your wish. And it will come to you before the moon is again new.

Georg’ann

there, within REACH
finger tips so close, grasp. 
It’s only air that is retained. 
Opening the hand, there’s plenty here. 
Take STOCK of the vapor
filling this seemingly empty palm.
A FLICK of the wrist sends energy outward, 
a spell cast, potential dispersed.
It happened so QUICK, 
The yearning, and the letting go
Heavy to hold intentions.

Heather

Feeling the energy DRAIN. Too tired to GLOVE up and keep punching once again. Sick of the need to EXTOL and glorify the working life. Yet, leisure can make me feel like a LOUSE, a slacker. In the face of disaster and great need, how dare I stop and rest? The truth is l cannot function without lightness and gentleness. Like the sound of a CELLO, or a silly game in the sun with friends, or a sweet HELLO from a wandering cat: these things that create balance and paradoxically,  ground me in what is worth fighting for.

Georg’ann

Last night there was no DREAM,
for there was no sleep
Awake, listening to the sounds of QUITE,
the many layers of noises a house makes, 
it’s rattles and hums, a bit of snore 
coming through the wall
the cat’s soft breathing at my feet
I move, she stirs. No longer alone 
she demands affection, pawing at my hand, 
Begins to purr loudly, and settles 
herself across my other arm
The WHOLE night passes, no angst 
for lost winks, HELLO alarm
good morning new day

Heather

Across the TABLE,
Shadows dance to METER
Heard only by me
In an EMPTY hall

Georg’ann

How did I LEARN to carry myself with POISE,
to glide gracefully into rooms
without knocking into the door jam,
proprioception as altered as my sense of self.

When did I stop stooping as if shrinking could protect me?
Or were my shoulders simply bent forward
under the weight of what they carried?

What is this transformation, no less miraculous
than than a caterpillar becoming a butterfly,
that allows me to flutter, delicately land
on beauty, suck in the nectar.
My WEEPY eyes softly seeking,
An EMPTY cocoon hanging just over there

Heather

Be CLEAR in your intent
Firm in your step
Present a true face
For lies make a poor LEVER
To attract a LOVER

Georg’ann

Warm scones with sweet CREAM
The peach has yet to RIPEN
My LOVER sips tea

Heather

To set too much STORE in the love of a PLAIN man is no hedge against a BULLY

Georg’ann

Thrown off kilter, rips in my rhythm
Interruptions in the ways I carefully COUNT
proportions of energy influx and out flow

Like a dervish I whirl without a spot for focus.
Demands drip like a leaky faucet, steadily saturating
bit by bit, incessant noise
that keeps me up at night

I QUAIL in my bed, attempt to puzzle through,
this is how its played, GUESS work.
Cradled on LUMPY pillows,
wrapped in a heavy comforter.

On the wall above me, a BURLY woman sleeps
under the full moon, lute by her head, stick in hand. No cover.
A lion sniffs her shoulder, curious, not threatening.
Warms her with his gentle breath, blowing sweet dreams he’s not here to BULLY.
Fully exposed she is serene.

Heather

Getting on the PLANE, I HOIST my bag up into the bin. Relieved that there is no one else sitting in my row, I settle down into my seat. Leaning against the window, I prepare to BROOD about my work. I have been hired to clean up some workplace chaos, and it’s a pretty messy set of problems. I wonder what BROOM, as it were, would work best to move the messes out? My new boss had made it clear that he has high expectations and will BROOK nothing less than success. The pressure is definitely on. So deep am I in my thoughts, that it takes me moment to register that someone has joined me in aisle 15. My heart sinks as I recognize the logo of my new company on the sheaf of papers he is struggling to handle while hefting his briefcase up. Hmm. Perhaps this is an opportunity. We shall see.

Georg’ann

The crabapple has established her SHAPE,
a crown that is decidedly ROUND
where I’d wanted a tree with quirky grace
her asymmetrical branches reaching out for me
sky showing in the spaces in between.
Not this dark green ball that hides the birds
and bears little of the promised fruit
I long to see more than the rustling of life
hidden among barren abundance
this matronly tree in her ample FROCK
crinoline leaves unwavering
holds herself steady there by the BROOK
It’s not what I wanted, yet would I deny
safe shelter for the very birds I wish to see

Heather

“Come see!” Maria grabs Freda’s hand and pulls her past the PLANT stand in the hall, almost knocking it over. Maria is so excited and PROUD, she can hardly wait to show off her prize. “Ta da: here’s POLLY.” Freda stopped and stared. “What is this?? I thought you had gotten a bird?!?” “Oh no, why would I do that? You know I have been slowly adding to my saltwater aquarium and this is the new sea anemone! Isn’t it a fine example of a POLYP?? Did you know they are related to jellyfish??” Freda rolled her eyes and started back down the hall, saying “You almost knocked over that antique table. I know it’s not a fish bowl or anything, but be more careful next time. Mom would be furious if you broke that table.”

Georg’ann

Tonight in the checkout line at Kroger, as I looked over People Magazine and all the candy packages, I was reminded of a PHASE from my early 20s in which it was common to eat a POUND bag of peanut
M & Ms, dance around my apartment in POOFY dresses listening to Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and The Bangles while procrastinating on writing my papers. A distant past in which there was no thought of colon cancer, the word POLYP only associated with Scrabble.

Heather

She was distracted by the clouds out the window, idly imagining one to be a SNAKE, one moving at an interesting ANGLE across the sky, and yet another to have the vague outline of an ANIME character that she liked. She jumped when Mr. Rainey’s voice broke into her reverie, bringing her abruptly back to the meaning of ANODE and cathode.

Georg’ann

Out on the PLAIN, heat rising
air not unlike a SAUNA,
weighing me down as it penetrates,
while simultaneously releasing.
An exchange that does nothing
to shift the sense of heaviness
At this time of day, the MANOR
casts a shadow over the peppers
My potted beauties, dangling
in various stages of ripeness. Their brightly colored skins so cheerful.
The ANCHO doesn’t call attention to itself
no need for vivid colors
his fate is to be blistered, stuffed, battered.
a small gnat circles around my lemonade.
To ANNOY may be their only function.
From my porch swing, laden with that hot, heavy air
I feel the ANODE and cathode currents
moving through everything

Heather

It’s hot and very dusty in here. With RAPID movements, I pile up the STRAW, stirring up even more dust. I am trying to uncover a GRATE in the floor of the barn. We are going to move the horses in, and need to make sure that when we wash out the stalls, the water can drain properly. We are new to owning horses, and are trying to do everything by the book. I suppose I should CHART everything so we can make sure we are not missing any steps or screwing up. I didn’t know this was going to be part of my new life, but well, here we are.

Georg’ann

Children love making noise
Give them beads in a QUART size jug
and oh how they shake and shake some more.
Moving randomly, but rhythmically
No classroom CHART, no order making necessary.
Riffing and grooving together
Little musicians find their place

Heather

With so much at STAKE, I hesitate to EJECT him for this momentary lapse. I do not want to set such a rigid tone for our relationship. Who knows what such an action could BEGET in the future?

Georg’ann

There were no SHARP notes punctuating our conversation.
It was as if the peace dove herself had FLOWN in,
weighted with olive branches, perhaps off course

QUIET, oh so quiet, this laying down of swords
Yielding BEGET an awakening
of heart strings, unfurling
fronds reaching for the light

Heather

Tapping my foot impatiently, I shout across the field. We have started marching band practice, and while today is offering a little reprieve from the heat, I know we will all be sweaty and grumpy very soon. “Okay! I am ABOUT to start the TIMER! Don’t TENSE up, or this TENTH practice run will have to turn into the eleventh.” And I watch, alternately wincing and cheering, as the band starts up a special arrangement of Winchester Cathedral.

Georg’ann

To comfort she brought cake, chocolate, of course. MOIST
A large piece sitting on a white PLATE
the border edged with green ivy leaves
PETTY desire to hoard it for myself
not share a single crumb
let it play a DUETT with vanilla ice cream,
sung just for me
Fork glides past my TEETH
The TENTH bite every bit
as pleasurable as the first

Heather

Her PLAIN coat WOULD serve as a protective SHELL – its STYLE belied her shrewd, perceptive mind

Georg’ann

Last night the SOUND of insects
was, frankly, torture
a SPARK of irritation
My exhaustion so great I was dizzy,
bed seemed to be moving
as if it were a boat
slow moving through SLIMY waters, not soothing
the room somewhat spinning too.
I could not get to sleep, trapped in a swamp of sensation
in the STYLE of some black and white ‘B’ movie
my face, close up contorted
in horror and despair
a silent, internal scream thus conveyed

Heather

ADIEU, small minds and small town
I am ready to DITCH this life
And hit the DISCO scene

Georg’ann

You WAVED goodbye
I sat alone with my DRINK
DISCO boogie plays

Heather

I am a BREAD MAKER. When I work with dough, I can slough off and sometimes even ERASE the negative self-talk that can run on a loop in my head. Or, rejuvenate my fatigue. Or, otherwise lift my spirits. You would think that my baking is a way to be kind and generous to others or to fill a need in our house. In truth, it is a way to REACH my own HEART and heal.

Georg’ann

Lena’s favorite SPORT?
She was a world class FLIRT.
I’d given her the gold,
ring around her finger
No threat when I watched
her practice her skills
with perfect form and pace
I never AVERT my eyes
as she makes the final play
scoring points with ease
all in fun, no HEART breaks
With the elan of the most elite
she makes us all feel worthy to play
while knowing she’s in a league of her own

Heather

I DREAM again of being INEPT in front of a room. About to begin a lecture, technical problems sidetrack and delay my lecture. Such an alone feeling, standing exposed, hoping someone will rescue me. But no one else comes to take the WHEEL, distract or sympathize: I am left to face the audience. It feels like such a uniquely human experience: this kind of vulnerability, run as an experiment by my mind, safe in my own bed. I ponder: what is the hypothesis being tested?

Georg’ann

Placing a peanut butter cookie between the halves
of a PLAIN bagel is not a peanut butter sandwich,
though he determined it so.
I’m unable to argue his logic.
“Maybe add a banana” I say
as I walk out the backdoor,
noting the garden needs MULCH
which it won’t get this year.
Settled into the car, check
systems and surroundings
attempting to find safety within
this fast moving SHELL
both hands on the WHEEL
I sit still, gripping tightly
not prepared to steer where I’m headed

Heather

“I believe it is a LEAST Flycatcher,” she said. My FROWN deepened, I squinted, trying to see the tiny bird. “Where?” “There, just above the third BOUGH of the hickory tree.” Swatting at the mosquitoes, dripping with sweat, I began to wonder at the wisdom of using this new HOBBY as a way to impress my latest crush.

Georg’ann

The next PHASE begins
We’ve cooked, now to MUNCH
our HOBBY? Good food

Heather

ARMOR up
Thrust and parry
Throw some SHADE
Isn’t this how we have
A WHALE of a time
Playing paintball??

Georg’ann

Early SHINE, dew on grass
No CHORE to do, Sunday rest
watch a WHALE swim by

Heather