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

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