I am QUITE content to sit on the lanai, eat my MANGO, look at the GOONY flying by, and take a break from all that is WRONG and stressful in the world.

Georg’ann

Swimming toward the reef,
Face down, eyes scanning
the tropical water is clear
though with each stroke
my arms brush aside WASTE
the WORLD is strewn
with discarded humanity
floating bottles are the message
nothing contained within
continuing my search
as if nothing’s WRONG
me in the dump, seeking treasure

Heather

I did not quite understand what was happening – things seemed to be unfolding on a different PLANE. Was I dreaming? Surely this sort of ridiculous DRAMA was not real. It all began when my rainbow CHARD won an AWARD at the county fair. Somehow the fair BOARD had received a weird threats about my, um, ‘gay’ plant. Who would ever have imagined that my lowly garden vegetable would require a GUARD in public!?

Georg’ann

I was invited to explore
while she prepared lunch.
Her HOUSE is a gallery
even the windows frame
an intriguing landscape.
Copper colored triptych
contains another set of threes
a single QUILL, it’s tip wrapped
with a tiny band of crimson
sits on a small bookshelf altar
next to a tiny pinkish buff hued maple leaf and a 2 inch grey feather.
Eva would love the poppies.
It’s CURVY mat and silver frame
hint at creation in the late 1980’s.
I touch canvases, the paint textures vary
smooth pastels fill in their canvas squares
where vibrant jewel tones leap,
bringing the texture with them.
To the scent of garlic and wine
the GUARD leaves his post
there is no need for protection
here I am safe.

Heather

Oh how I love a PARTY!
No ifs, and, or buts,
I need no qualification or ASIDE:
It’s unequivocal,
It’s positively the pinnacle!
Say the word soirée,
And I will sway!
Say the word fete
And I will find a date!
At a moment’s notice
I AVAIL myself of the chance,
Perhaps to dance,
Once AGAIN
Just tell me when!

Georg’ann

So quickly does meat SPOIL
Assaulted by the ACRID smell upon opening the refrigerator –
once AGAIN it goes to waste

Heather

Looking up, she feels an incredible sense of PEACE. Yes, that is the man that I will MARRY. She smiles as he TALKS on and on about something… She is too distracted by the movement of his lips, the way he gestures when excited by an idea. It really doesn’t matter what he is talking about – how to make airplane models from BALSA wood or the latest developments in classical archaeology. She hears all with the ears of love and is content.

Georg’ann

One of life’s GREAT pleasures?
A SCALP massage, so simple
Imagine floating down river,
LASSO in hand, on a raft
made of BALSA,
lover’s fingers in my hair
all ten working in circles
scent of jasmine in the air

Heather

It is possible to PLACE a CROWN of daisies on a little child’s head so carefully, so as to not CRUSH a single flower. But, as you may imagine, that is a special skill, right up there with icing birthday cakes so that not a single CRUMB shows through on the edges.

Georg’ann

This house is rarely QUIET
everyone talking, clanging
spontaneous jam sessions
channeling Little Richard, Jimi Hendrix.
Dense cats leap and gallop
all night crashing about,
water swooshes through pipes,
odd creaks in walls, across floors,
an old man snoring,
young people laughing.
In this bright room a GOURD
hangs from an invisible string,
a portrait of two SAUCY teens
painted from a best friends selfie
is propped against the desk.
Waking early I find a single CRUMB
on the counter by the coffeemaker
reminder of the celebration.
It’s as still as it gets in this pulsing place.
Sound coursing is life force,
music of the heart.

Heather

The OCEAN calls to me – invites me, entices me
I want to SCOOP up handfuls of sand, of shells, of treasures
A beach where I can SCOUT out paths, watch them be washed away
And then do it all again in an endless blissful cycle

Georg’ann

In the DREAM a gentle rain falls,
maybe more a heavy mist
than distinct drops.
Walking along a mountain path
our guide has just SHOWN us
a SPOOL of rope which will be used to secure our descent.
It’s not clear what this journey is about,
only that we’ve all put out STOCK in this SCOUT,
our passage is in her hands

Heather

Feeling out of PLACE, midst conversations of DETOX, juice fasts, and whatnot, I try not to SNEER at the ridiculousness of this party. I move about the crowd, fascinated by displays of ENNUI, some of which seemed to be competitive, an odd notion to be sure!

Georg’ann

High above the freeway bustle an iridescent dragonfly
hovers above the murky WATER
POISE in motion, glint of sapphire blue
Wandering around the unexpected pond
contemplating BEING
and nothingness
a little boy has tied a string around a stick, fishing
a discarded DENIM jacket
in the dirt beside him
I wear ENNUI as if it were a pashmina, elegantly draped
soft weight on my shoulders
It’s peaceful here, misplaced
Yesterday this same serenity held a different meaning

Heather

It is with some truth that I CLAIM to not have a single SPARE moment in the day. Preparing a FEAST for 20 means not just ordering and prepping a BEAST, but, alas, often feeling and yes, even acting a bit like one.

Georg’ann

Our sunny walk curves
gently up the hill,
it’s steepness disguised
until the final bend
the city comes into view
spreading across the valley
here at the top a small pond
two mallards swim in SHADE
birds of prey swoop down
on some little BEAST

Heather

The children SWARM and scamper like goats, up and down, still in PLAIN sight of the back door. They are loathe to BATHE, preferring to stay out and play. “It’s like a GAUDY night, Miss! We want to stay out late,” they beg. Miss calls back to them, mocking and light in her manner, “it’s getting late, you need to be CANNY, and get your FANNY back here!” Giggling, they caper and skip back down the hill. Their voices raised, singing silly songs, “Oh, dear Miss, give us a kiss, we are in bliss, please don’t dismiss or take a piss.” “Oh you cheeky lot,” says NANNY, bustling about, “we barely have time now for bath, cookies, and a bit of a story before bed!” The door closes and the continued chatter and laughter drift along through the night air.

Georg’ann

The sun is setting out the PLANE window
a glowing band of color
as if the horizon were on fire.
The fair haired boy seated in front of me exclaims,
“it’s a real life volcano!
Look, it’s a real life volcano!”
Even as we hit turbulence, he he maintains excitement
stating “the engines are failing” without a hint of fear.
It is only as we are descending through the clouds
that his demeanor has the TAINT of apprehension.
There is something reassuring in the sky-view expanse.
Now engine lights periodically flash like lightening in the shrouding grey mist as we bump our way down.
Randomly I think of magma
was what I meant to pick in my word game, not MAGNA.
The former would flow
whereas the latter will not.
The boy and his NANNY gather their things,
meeting the mother at this junction, then continuing onto Australia.
Moving from Terre Haute to Melbourne,
my in flight entertainment
was the commencement of a life changing adventure.

Heather

BRASH, harsh, abrupt – the telling of the story was hard to absorb. The voice on the other end of the phone – so much pain. I am aware that I am taking in all the tension, distorted on the couch, hunched over, tightening my jaw, my hands, my gut. The THEME is so familiar – love, accusations, betrayal, shame, fear – all made worse by the public, curated nature of lives in our world. Ironically fueling private pain and paranoia. The room I am in suddenly feels claustrophobic, the HUMID air pushes on me. The voice breaks into sobs once more and I want to scream.

Georg’ann

When the BREAK comes
she gets stuck, haunted
though not by a GHOST
feels terror, inside her mind playing a horror film
her pleading, tear filled voice seeking reassurance,
as I walk under the moon
She grasps for connection
to her grandmother, to birds
recalls the FINCH at the feeder
like any finch, it darts away
So long on this HILLY path
Simultaneously climbing
and deeply descending,
belaying steadily, trusting
the rope, the rock
Feeling the heaviness
of the HUMID air
we both want to let go
free fall into the abyss
“I’m right here, sweetheart,
I won’t let you go”

Heather

The LODGE was in a bad way: it needed a fresh coat of PAINT; a bit of an upgrade to the kitchen; a whole lot of cleaning. We had started inside in the winter, with lots of determination. And now it’s summer, and after a satisfying MARCH around the building, we are ready. I made rum BABAS for dessert. With a little JAZZY dinner music and the rest of the fancy food from the kitchen. And then we’ll be ready to prove the naysayers wrong.

Georg’ann

SLATE colored CARGO ships
vessels of adventure
The rats and I are HAPPY
it may seem DAFFY to celebrate
the migration of JANKY goods
yet so much life in motion sitting still watching the bustle
eating a JAMMY sandwich
recalling port scenes
from all genres of film and lit
gives me a JAZZY vibe

Heather

Light as a feather, the delicate rose petals DANCE above a PLATE, heavily scented flowers shedding. An array of pink-tipped debris falls across the table. Human dancers move, both AGILE and smooth, in and out of the tables. My table, off to the side, affords me a good view of the roses, the dancers, and the golden sunlight. What a perfect summer evening for a garden party!

Georg’ann

Driving the country road over hills,
around the curves
through woods and cornfields
in search of the tallest TRAIN trestle.
She spans high above a field dotted with wildflowers.
I watch a butterfly land on a DAISY
in the late afternoon sun
all manner of fluttering, swooping, buzzing
around me
It is gloriously ALIVE
I marvel at the AGILE perching,
how carefully balanced these tiny legs on delicate petals.

Heather

With a GLARE that could IMPEL obedience from a tiger, she stomped out of the HOTEL. Catching a glimpse of this performance through the exquisite BEVEL etched goblet of my wine glass, I marvel. We humans EXCEL at these sorts of displays, ones calculated to maximize attention. I bow, nay, I KNEEL to a superior display. I approach the hotel clerk, trying to figure out how to get that diva’s name. She would be perfect for the play I am tasked with casting.

Georg’ann

The VIDEO TAKEN by the bystander clearly showed the assault. There was no way to deny that the victim had been KNEED while attempting to KNEEL down for her evening prayers.

Heather

With her usual FLAIR, she tried to convince them that the THEME of this year’s gala should be Man vs. MOUSE. “We could have a mousetrap contest, see who can build a better mousetrap!” she enthused. “People can dress up like famous mice (Mickey! Jerry!) Or like exterminators!” The committee was doubtful.

Georg’ann

Left quickly, PAINT spilled
I DROVE away, unaware
MOUSE feet make new art

Heather

FLAME gonna burn, Baby
Don’t STOMP
On my heart
Don’t SKIMP
With your love

Georg’ann

The CHOIR director was offered a new song by a local musician. After listening he knew immediately this was the turning point. He didn’t pause to BLINK, laying out his vision. On this one he would not SKIMP, even if it meant pulling on his own meager means.

Heather

In a desperate attempt to keep PEACE at the table, she made a WAGER with her restless, testy 10 and 12 year old dinner companions. It would not have done to have BARED her true motivation, and so she shared with them a recent video. “I bet you can’t figure out how to RAVEL (that’s the opposite of unravel, right?) our RAMEN. First one to knit a noodle scarf gets to pick where we go for dessert.” A few giggles, eye rolls, a fair bit of broth splashes, and using chopsticks as knitting needles, they all failed miserably at emulating the clever person in the video. And no one won the bet. But they did succeed (eventually) at having dinner. Ice cream seemed the only sensible thing to do after that.

Georg’ann

Fingers moved through the soft EARTH, lifting it up, feeling
it fall back through her fingers.
She’d RACED for the last time, crossed the finished line and fallen to her knees, spent.

There’d be time later to put it all into some tidy narrative, boxed up and sealed shut. For now she allowed the energy to slip away, like the dirt moving in her hands.

Perhaps tomorrow she’d head to the library, spend the day reading something that would take her further away than any race ever could, while simultaneously holding her steadily in place. She always loved running past the return box painted like a RAVEN, written over with a Poe quote.

Yes, life was opening. Things she’d noted in passing were now possibilities with which to fully engage. A good book and a bowl of RAMEN, simple pleasures that had no place in her race running life. It would be a different pace moving forward, the outcome of which was still unknown.

She rose from the ground and took her place on the platform where soon her final medal would be placed around her neck. She stood quietly looking forward without seeing.

Heather

In line at the FEAST
Pondering which beast
Is it best to nosh on a SHEEP?
Or will I get wool in my teeth?
Perhaps I should SLIDE
Over to the side
In search of the sublime
Will it be the SWINE?
Oh no I eschew
Flesh to chew
And settle for a glass of Pinot
And a plate of quinoa

Georg’ann

Best not to DRINK wine
that pours from a bottle
wrapped round with TWINE
use as a kitschy candleholder?
He that gave it is a SWINE

Heather

I move like a SNAIL, so slow. The morning alarm feels as judgemental as a GAVEL in a courtroom. I snarl at it. I am up already, no need to push! The smell of coffee, toasted BAGEL, and the quiet murmur of voices is what finally persuades me that, yes, I should, can, and will arise.

Georg’ann

Traveling across states,
to meet my children,
it’s been almost a year
despite masks,
and the surreal inability to embrace
we have a GREAT day in the Arboretum
Starting with rich dark roast and a scrumptious BAGEL
In the morning chill
Later my darling daughter pees in the trees
to the chagrin of her partner
Sun beams filtered through leaves
shine down like a spotlight
as we pose, legs on a log
distanced but not distant

Heather

I had MEANT to leave THERE sooner. But the chance to catch a little joy, kept me moving along the path at zoo. There are few animals who can STREW delight and playfulness as well as an OTTER can. And so here I stand, caught up in the moment, as if I had nothing better to do than to smile and exclaim over the UTTER happiness of these sleek and lithe river gods.

Georg’ann

Sitting on the mat, he told me he loved dog parks
Though he had no dog of his own, he found it joyful
to watch them bounding across fields
This I ADORE, so unexpected
it cleanses the sticky RESIN
that often coat my heartstrings
far to easy to be PETTY,
to accumulate mental detritus
rather than hold delight of CUTER things
It is with UTTER appreciation that I thank him

Heather

From the sidewalk, I can see a FLAME glowing brightly behind the hotel windows. As the SLEET hits sharply, sending little rivers of cold down my neck, I cling tightly to my suitcase handle and cautiously cross the street. The greys around me BLEND fully – sky, buildings, other people are all varying shades of charcoal, bleak and grim.
The bell on the door chimes brightly. The CLERK is adjusting the red carnation in her lapel, the color shocking and welcoming all at once. I do believe everything is going to be okay.

Georg’ann

CREAM in the scones, not the tea!
Whether it be a CLERK or the Queen
milk is the mark of an authentic Brit.

Heather

I had to THINK about it for awhile – did had she really LIVED, as I heard her CLAIM, in an IGLOO?

Georg’ann

The sound of bitter cold ice is painful, it screeches
a NOISE felt piercing in the ears,
moving down into all the nerves
warmer ice, retaining moisture, is quiet, so very quiet.
Those that live in this landscape are in harmony
with each glistening quality and adjoining purpose.
It takes a certain VIGOR to inhabit a cold place
to live in a home made of ice blocks
What hangs on the walls of an IGLOO
What is the quality of conversation
Intimacy warms from the inside out

Heather

Her personality loomed LARGE whenever she stepped into a certain kind of role in a DRAMA. It would bring her acclaim, a cry or two of “BRAVO,” even rave reviews that overshadowed her fellow actors. But she took little satisfaction from these BRASH out-spoken roles, knowing as she did that she was playing herself. She longer for an opportunity to inhabit someone different on stage, a true test of her art and abilities.

Georg’ann

On the road a STAIN
gone in a FLASH
Driving too fast
Around the curve
CRASH
write ups made much
of his BRASH nature
as unseen in death
As he had been in life

Heather

We shall have a FEAST and I am delighted to share my FLASK of homemade elderberry wine

Georg’ann

TWINE secured a scrap of faded copper colored satin,
forming a POUCH around a still warm sourdough boule
Walking together we DALLY along Swan Pond
Watching turtles swim slowly
disappearing under the green-brown surface, heads re-emerge,
movement barely perceptible
a different sort of meditation
than the one that comes from watching birds
Wind blows across the water’s surface
The pattern reminds me of textured GLASS
Under the rough hewn gazebo
surrounded by peonies in various states of bloom and spent,
I offer my bread, you present your FLASK

Heather

I would not TRADE a single moment of love in order to avoid my GRIEF at losing you.

Georg’ann

Two burning, oozing bites
One on each ELBOW
Speak their request for attention
Like a TIRED child
Wanting comfort not readily available
Wise INNER mother quietly coos, gentle
GRIEF no longer resides here
acceptance arrived with soothing cream
Nature stings, swells, recedes
Nature stings, swells, recedes
Nature stings, swells, recedes
Nature stings, swells, recedes
Nature stings, swells, recedes
…
As it has always been,
so it shall always be.

Heather

We SHARE a moment, watching our wonderful wild child, who fills my arms, all sweaty, who sprawls across us both, spreading playground dust and grit without thought of the adult need for tidiness, offices to return to, meetings that must be attended. As I trace the line along his pale white skin, exposed by his newly SHORT hair, we marvel at how the one simple haircut, leaving him SHORN of toddler curls, has added years to his appearance. I feel the swoop and sweep of all our ages at once, layer upon layer, both stretching and collapsing time. The sweetness of the moment is abruptly ended by a wiggle and a squirm, the impatience of a child wins out over adult reflections propelling us into the future.

Georg’ann

Standing over the tub, afternoon sun at my back
Watching the water changing
from brown to clear as it circles the DRAIN
Dirty hands washed clean
Like the freshly SHORN sheep

Heather

Oh how I love the little white violets, as if a PEARL necklace had broken apart and scattered all across the lawn! Just visible next to one PLANT, completely hidden by another. To add to the enchantment of the moment, a chipmunk emerges from under the woodpile, hops onto a PLANK of lumber, discarded from some long forgotten project, surveying the riches before him. I savor the moment, this world rich with life and beauty 

Georg’ann

TIRED has become the default
Physically, emotionally
Though spiritually still thriving
functions like strong coffee,
a predictable pleasure
that awakens the senses.
Perhaps a SHACK would suit, to live like Thoreau
Fill BLANK pages with careful noticing
to a soundtrack of birdsong and crickets, winds rustling, fires crackling.
Keeping my body strong
without need for contrivances like holding a PLANK
Each day the form unfurling
strengthening and lengthening raises to the sun, then curls
around itself under the moon

Heather

I MEANT to TAPER off my contributions to the ever-growing stream of WASTE, a perpetual end-of-times problem. Instead, here I am, yet again, shopping, collecting bags from the HAUTE fashion stores and falling for another false LATTE. I console myself with some more cinnamon on my iced hazelnut coffee confection. There is always tomorrow, I try to believe.

Georg’ann

We carry a PLAIN piece of wood across a foreign REALM
It’s BLEAK landscape has a simple beauty,
not unlike the wood itself
Arrival at last, relief
A VALET takes our bag
We rest on the porch
Contemplating the grain,
curious what the LATHE will reveal
The artist comes out,
carrying cookies and a creamy LATTE
the bittersweet commission has commenced

Heather

“It’s going to be an ordeal, a miserable TRIAL, a test of my stamina and sturdiness,” I announced. “But the whole experience could be SAVED – MAYBE – if we have enough GAUZE.” You look up, puzzled. “What on earth do you mean?” “Well, silly, so we can create something to protect us from the mosquitoes. I will just to run to the fabric store. Can you see if there is a way to drape it over us while we are in the CANOE? You can do that, right?? I won’t be long.”

Georg’ann

After a few hours picnic provisions start to SPOIL
Choosing what to toss 
and what to keep is ROUGH, 
each of us having decidedly different tolerances
salads begin to whither;
cheeses harden at the edge and glisten with sweat;
festive fruit tarts, after their CAMEO appearance, 
are best left for the bees. 
Simplicity is best for a CANOE adventure- an apple and some nuts. 

Heather

I DRAPE, with casual abandon, while taking the ROACH clip, a SCARF over my bare shoulders. I am the embodiment of teen pretense at sophistication, practicing my sexy wiles on my companion du jour. Ah, youth! Ah, time!

Georg’ann

TEARS, like the rain predicted
do not come
they hang heavy in the air
a pressure waiting for release
Occasionally a SPARK, perhaps the storm is coming?
At the surface everything is a SWARM
In the depths nothing is SCARY,
all sensation ceases
though I watch the light move in the curtains
like the billowy SCARF
my father painted in the sky above the temple
the fabric through which he strives in vain, to paint the hand of god.

Heather

I often find myself in the PLACE where I crave a bit of sweet, a CANDY perhaps, to offset a bitter, ACRID, or otherwise savory taste. I am uncertain if this is some sort of commentary on my personality or simply a common human experience.

Georg’ann

Walking over the SLATE,
on one of those enticing MARCH days,
preview of spring, a reprieve
Careful attention to the rocks around reveals a fossilized ACRON of unknown origin.
Continuing on an ACRID smell
signals recent death.
Seasons and cycles

Heather

We discuss in lively and playful ways about anything and everything- the difference between SHAME and guilt, the benefits of a desk lamp versus one that you can STAND in the corner, and if the robin we are watching is having a
SNAIL or an earthworm for a SNACK. I love this about our relationship, that we can pass endless hours together and never be bored.

Georg’ann

Sitting in my worn arm CHAIR by the window,
It’s my favorite PLACE to spend hour upon hour,
a STACK of things to read,
a sip and SNACK within reach.
All complaints fall to the wayside.
Absorbed into other tales, lines of thinking, eloquent prose.
Outside a flash of red catches my eye.
Mr. Cardinal perches in the soft branches of the hemlock.

Heather

To QUIET the TIGER of rage, throw away ITEMS that keep you locked into that adversarial relationship with your self.
Make space for acting in accord with a heart-centered ETHIC. Internal peace will come.

Georg’ann

As PAINT can play a TRICK with the eyes,
so can a STOIC demeanor send your gaze elsewhere.
Learning to hide pain has become a personal ETHIC
My ebullience a trompe l’oeil

Heather

When the WORLD feels TOUGH, I like to make something FOAMY and sweet, like POPPA would. Perhaps a hot COCOA or a steamed milk with honey and cinnamon.

Georg’ann

Some evenings I like to AVOID effort,
retreating into some show,
silly yet sophisticated
with CAMEO performances peppered throughout.
To be a passive spectator, not the COACH
Sipping COCOA, cozy blanket
across my lap cat purring itself to sleep.

Heather