So many MOVIE scenes of birth, human and otherwise cast a CLOUD over her LABOR – she cannot get the images of pain, blood, fear, death out of her mind. “Look at me.” a voice, quiet in her ear. Struggling to grab the moment, she opens her eyes. A small, intimate group surrounds her, soft light coming in from the window. It must be almost dawn. Each face AGLOW from the soft light from the east, but also with love – for her, this baby, the moment. Pulling her into the present, back into her body, she is hit with a incredibly powerful contraction. Different, powerful in a new way, activating her, propelling her and the baby into the magical moment when one becomes two.

Georg’ann

Under a knotted shelf of ancient grey roots,
droplets fall intermittently
into the dark, CLEAR pool
where earth used to be
Periodic ripples on the still surface
LANKY girl jumps from rock to rock
a thoroughbred released from her STALL
face AGLOW with spring

Heather

In her DREAM, she BOLTS away from the CLOWN, only to run into the arms of a GHOUL.

Georg’ann

Hiding alone now
Not waiting AMONG the GROUP
For the GHOUL to show

Heather

I have LOVED every STRAY puppy, kitten that has crossed my path. My heart has broken with every dead bird, desiccated earthworm, even the skunk by the side of the road. But while my heart is not too PICKY, I have found fish more strange- from GUPPY to grouper, they fail to move me, despite their sometime beauty and grace. Is it the cold-blooded thing? Or perhaps the strange mouth gape or off-putting scales? The heart has its own reasons, even in matters such as these.

Georg’ann

Holding the wet clay in my hands,
beginning to shape it with eyes closed
squeezing, stroking toward memory
here, alone in my office,
I can almost GRASP it
the early childhood draw to mud, muck, GOOPY slime, and finger paint.
Sensory play that makes a mess,
leaves it traces everywhere.
Even the mouth craves to be filled with some sort of ooey, mushy goodness
Mashed potatoes, cream of wheat, bubble tea, banana, a frozen gas station GULPY.
Continuing the exploration
I am awash with glee.
A sweet little GUPPY swimming in my own pool,
flashing colors catch the light
movement silent, no splashing.
Clay infused water drips without sound
on my pants, shoes, the floor.
No adult chagrin accompanies their fall

Heather

Frustrated by the election results, the task is set: how to invite those with the LEAST POWER to hold accountable those elected. All the words: poor, underserved, disadvantaged, unhoused, etc, etc erase the reality of the lived experience, drawing lines, pretending that they are babies to be pulled out the river instead of one of us, doing the best we can with what we have, and then are thrown in the river by systems that never have to face consequences. We have been tokens played in a game without ever being invited to the table. We have BORNE the task of signalling virtue while our humanity is reduced. Still, the moment is less a call for an angry HORDE at the gates of power. No, it’s a time for cold anger, strategic, disciplined, organized. We will stand upstream and expose who and what is throwing so many babies into the river. Accountability. Persistence. A new locus of power and strength, together.

Georg’ann

Today’s words seem familiar
haven’t I already written a FABLE
in which a light continues
to SHINE
emanating it’s soft glow at nightfall
guiding me back WHERE woods meet OCHRE fields.
Refuge from the HORDE
YES, these are familiar words
turned into familiar themes
Internal light emanating
through my fingertips.

Heather

ABOUT to head out the door, I am making sure to EQUIP myself with everything we will need. Happy with the prospect of a day hike in the woods, I look over our lunch: a CHUNK of cheddar, some toasty RUSKS, an orange and some grapes. A bottle of water, and we are good to go. I call for Sandy, faithful lab companion. She had looked a bit worried and SULKY on her cushion, but now she is all tail wags and happy dog dance. “C’mon, girl, let’s grab David and get going!”

Georg’ann

We wandered without PAUSE
Hours and hours of sightseeing
Until sensory saturation
and low blood sugar hit like a sudden summer downpour
We stopped.
Sitting on the edge of yet another beautiful fountain
Watching an ebullient young boy kicking a plastic bottle
across the courtyard,
our SULKY mood lifted.

Heather

I was young. Or, at LEAST, that’s my excuse for having been okay with such a CHEAP date. Ah, AMORE! Ah, youth! He said it would be fun, and I suppose it was, even if I had to pay for my own ticket to the Renaissance FAIRE. The best part was the romantic sunset party on the BARGE, decked out in ribbons, with jugglers, mead and pear cider to drink, and a lute player acting the wandering minstrel. I confess I did a
scan of the other attendees, checking out the RANGE of possible new dates. Though, truth be told, it was probably not the best place to go looking.

Georg’ann

When presented with my options, I was tempted to FEIGN a rare illness resulting in a particularly unpleasant MANGE. Yet I wasn’t completely confident I had the acting RANGE to pull it off. It would require a bit of research, likely accompanied by disturbing pictures. Ew!

No, this definitely was not my best option. What other excuse could I concoct to avoid an evening of Dada inspired food and fashion with pretentious, and often vicious, octogenarians?

Heather

A PLACE to PLANT a tale,
A PLAID weaving of work and love,
All stripes and diagonals
Displayed in the commons,
The public PLAZA, hanging for all to see–
Tender moments, vulnerable spaces

Georg’ann

Oh to be filled with air
VAPID, floating
Not questioning what’s on your PLATE.
Or anyone else’s.
The PLANK nothing more than a diving board.
Accumulating baubles, trinkets, and fruit in the PLAZA,
no concern for the hungry vendors.
Or the ragged children playing in the dirt

Heather

When I HEARD the birdsong, my heart leapt just a little bit. I was determined to finally see some warblers, and this might be my chance. A fence and the prospect of difficult going would not DEBAR me from giving it a try. With a firm grip on my walking stick and my binoculars swinging from my neck, I plunged in and headed for the stand of red CEDAR trees. I was soon rewarded with a spectacular view from the bluff. As for the birds? It’s the process as much as the goal, and I was as satisfied with the journey as I would have been with a whole flock of yellow warblers. My heart was still full and grateful for a spring trek in the woods.

Georg’ann

We didn’t RAISE her,
it wasn’t possible to BREAK
her FERAL nature.
Keeping her distance,
she returned day after day
warily and expectantly
waiting under the CEDAR
for whatever we set out.
One morning in early spring, we found a headless baby bunny at the backdoor.
We accepted her gift.
Later that summer she left us her kittens to tame.

Heather

On the MAPLE wood BOARD, I had arranged an ARRAY of cheeses, nuts, and breads. I added some rosemary sprigs, a few sprays of mint that had begun to flower, and finally a few twigs from the small-leafed and intensely scented thyme growing by the kitchen door. I surveyed the results with satisfaction. You would have thought that members of a papal CURIAE, CIRCA 1500 were arriving, instead of the priests from the local parish. Humming a little tune, I stepped away from the table. Just a few more minutes to get rid of this apron, touch up my hair, and they should be here. Tossing the apron aside, I headed upstairs, not noticing that the back door was ajar… Ah, if only I had noticed, so much would have been different that afternoon!

Georg’ann

Eclipse

In the parking lot I paused momentarily
to pet the skinny creature.
He wove through my legs, black fur dusty.
Re-entering the store,
I bought him a bit of food.
The next day I came again.
He was there.
My daughter was there.
Her father was there.
I ADORE clear signs
that confirm my impulses
The store owner and neighbors confirmed
he was a STRAY. We took him home.
After a few days his coat gleamed.
My mother said he was art in motion.
Every image would go VIRAL
if this wasn’t CIRCA late 90s,
before the posting culture.

Heather

A night made for sneaking down to the pond, we can not resist. We FLOAT on our backs, stare up at the moon, round as a MELON. Warm nights, cool water, you and I in easy companionship – I COULD get used to this. Shall we defy all LOGIC and ignore mundane practicalities and choose a life of sensual pleasures?

Georg’ann

To write a HAIKU
Let thoughts flow like a RIVER
Less SOLID LOGIC

Heather

A SHADE has been cast over my day. Vaguely headache-y, I tried to ENTER with enthusiasm into my tasks, but instead just feel blah. And now, I am feeling in the mood for a RETRO evening: books, cards, jigsaw puzzles, anything but being on a screen. I could even be content sitting and staring, like a traveler on the METRO, watching the world go by.

Georg’ann

Writing with you each morning
from our own spaces has become the practice
I didn’t know was possible,
a way to UNITE
internal process, intention, and friendship.
Each piece supports the OTHER,
where I’d imagined them in isolation, competing for attention.
Profundity was disguised in simple pleasure,
It’s quaint, perhaps RETRO,
to start the day with play.
Let’s puzzle it out, write our way forward.
someday together make sandcastles on the METRO.

Heather

A PLUMP peach to SHARE
No effort need we EXERT
Under COVER of the BOWER
Lips press, yellow flesh yields
I’m a GONER for sure –
Cupid, that JOKER, has made me love’s fool

Georg’ann

The FIELD is transformed
One day barren brown, the next an impressionist painting
the spectrum of bright greens infused with patches of purple
Each SHARE perfectly proportioned,
POWER to awe in the balance of complimentary hues that COVER acre upon acre
No camera can capture,
No TONER can print
the shades of spring
This palette the backdrop for the dance of bee and BORER
as the doe and her fawns stand still in the waning sunlight

This morning’s reflection stirred modes where no JOKER belongs,
A time of quiet before his arrival at the breakfast table
when the day takes on a new cadence.

Heather

A HEART open, 
Ready for adventure,
I pass a STOOP
Where sits a DOTTY lady
Who sings with glee.
I cry “DITTO!”
And, now, two goofy ladies
Sit by the sidewalk
Singing with glee!

Georg’ann

Within the kitchen cabinets
things mostly stay
within a logical GROUP
dependent, of course,
on the idiosyncratic notions
of the original organizer.
Under the sink oils, vinegars, spirits and cleansers gathered in individual tubs,
logic overthrown by necessity
the height and width
of the containers that only fit here.

Does the COMET ever cross the bounds and land next to the balsamic or the vermouth?
If so is there a dispute?
Will rosewater call Thieves All Purpose Cleaner to come restore order, wielding his BATON, aka trigger spray?

Order in the drawers is more communal,
Knives cavort with spoons,
Forks are forever mingling

The garlic press, pizza cutter, and corkscrew seem to know they should hang together.
One gets pulled, DITTO the next, and then the next,
as if a chorus line dancing toward dinner and a movie.

Heather

I am lucky – I am not alone, I have people to SHARE this BUMPY ride with me. Closely held, dear to my heart, fellow travelers who without hesitation, PLUNK down right next to me, buckle in and will hang on until the end. My gratitude for the moments when UNPIN ourselves from routine, take chances and UNZIP the layers that keep our true selves hidden! What wild adventures of the heart and mind follow!

Georg’ann

I didn’t pause to THINK it through
A dare was given, I took it
Strolled out to the street, flashed the first car that passed,
I’d already pulled the zipper down,
in preparation for the 1st passerby
hands ready to open quickly the soft folds of my hoodie

What were the chances
that Steve Smith, or any other classmate,
would be driving with his family up Hillside
around midnight on a Saturday night?
Slim, to impossible, those
are the chances
but there we have it.

I didn’t know until Monday morning
Walking into Mrs. Morris’s 4th grade
I began to INCUR the backlash
of the slumber party antics

That impetuous girl was not me.
She was a creature of the night
Taking a risk in the dark
To seek acceptance
this would not be the last time I regretted my decision to UNZIP

Heather

I lean over the display case, and one CAMEO in particular catches my eye. It is delicate and a little mysterious. Simple, too, just a figure on a chair holding a staff, in black on a white stone. The noises around me recede into a background DRONE, as I feel pulled into this incredible intersection of beauty and history. Curious, I read what the curator WROTE about this ancient piece, the personification of the city of Rome from the 4th century. What marvelous work, skill, and art.

I try to imagine how many attempts it took to achieve this, how many stones BROKE, how many calluses built up before getting to this perfect object. I feel so grateful for this moment.

Georg’ann

Is there a patron SAINT to guide me through this CHORE?
One to whom I can light a candle, chant a prayer
in exchange for a modicum of comfort.
Where am I to begin?
How deeply should I PROBE?
Do I go for BROKE or turn away?
On my knees, a supplicant
seeking to be released
from the responsibility of acting alone
for the good of so many.

Heather

Eyebrow raised, I POINT to the WAFER-thin spot in the back of the station wagon. With a LAUGH, you shrug, and pick up my golf clubs. “There is simply no way those are going to fit!” Taking things out and starting to repack the car, you begin, “Did I ever tell you about that time I turned down a chance to CADDY for Tiger?” “Tiger Woods???! Why have you never told me this before???” You are starting to shove the clubs in.”Well, no, ÄshoveÑ it was, um, Tiger ÄshoveÑ Mahoney, he was three-time winner of the city tournament. ÄShoveÑ When I was just starting out, he was the guy to beat.” I roll my eyes. “Tiger Mahoney. You have got to be joking.” I shake my head. Arms linked, we step back together and survey the loaded down car. “Lucky we aren’t also bringing a KAYAK.” “Oh my.” He tosses me the keys. “You take the first shift. Packing your clubs wore me out.” “Sounds good – let’s go!”

Georg’ann

From last fall I retain an IMAGE
of a bushy tailed squirrel
scurrying across the hillside,
ACORN in mouth,
as it makes a HASTY getaway
I float close to the shore
my KAYAK moving with the wind
Wondering why on land everything
seems to move with urgency while the frenzy for survival
lets go on this lake
This is what I want to remember
How to float with the wind
Not run against time

Heather

Putting away her PHONE, she leaned across the shared PLATE of beautiful cheeses and crisp crackers. “Tell me again about the time you visited the cheetah rescue center in South Africa.”

Georg’ann

If only I could SHARE my PLATE,
too much, it’s all mine,
no morsel can be consumed
by another
as if it were pot roast night
all my friends vegetarian
A platter full with the beefy beast
only I can tame

Heather

I was feeling less than READY that day. I sat in my usual spot at the table. I had pen, paper, a cup of coffee, and my laptop for when it would be time to send the column to my editor. I stared out the window, watching birds SWOOP and flutter, negotiating with the squirrels for the seed I had put out. The usual questions swirled in my head: Could I put it off longer? Would it matter if I were being paid more than CHUMP change to churn out these columns? Was it time to take out the laundry?

As usual, my answers to all of the questions were “No.” I picked up the stack of printed emails, put on my “Aunt Mary” persona dispensing advice to all and sundry, and began.

That is when it happened, the moment that changed everything. Looking back, I can’t – but wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Like I told the police, I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I heard the THUMP. (When I get going as “Aunt Mary” answering queries, saving marriages, and wiping away the tears of my public, I tend to lose track of time.) Like I told the police, I really couldn’t understand why a body would be dumped unceremoniously in my root cellar.

Georg’ann

Seed season again

Packets spread across the table
new ones impulsively purchased,
and those left from last year, most still unopened
year after year, varieties of snow peas, zinnias, sunflowers, spinach, arugula, radishes, and beets.

Always more seeds than I can possible PLANT,
Ideas like the butterflies, bees and hummingbirds
I imagine flittering from blossom to blossom

Standing on the STOOP, donning a ridiculous GETUP,
I gaze across the yard
content to let the garden TRUMP all else today

Sprinkling specks of brown into expanses of brown
giving each a tender little THUMP
this gesture, with one’s index finger,
part of so many daily tasks

No green thumb needed
to yield bountiful beauty
even if not a single seed sprouts,
even if most remain in their packets,
I tended, allowed, accepted
my true nature
grateful for what I already had

Heather

Dear Reader, you will never guess who was spotted at the OPERA, in the most exclusive box! Indeed, Lady M— was seen in the presence of Earl W— . Dare we guess the cause of his MOIST brow and dazed look? Surely it COULD be nothing to do with the Lady M— (oh, if you were there, you know!)! Well, I applaud the Earl for having at last achieved his heart’s desire. We presumably know where he can be FOUND this morning. The question remains if the two people in question will be at the annual fox and HOUND costume ball. Any guess as to which will dress like the hunter and which like the prey?

Georg’ann

Samual posed the following QUERY this afternoon:
If I headed to the POUND
Could you not make a SOUND?
The perfect pup had been FOUND
just beyond the Middletown MOUND
It was the blue tick HOUND
He’d spotted around.

Heather

Oh, to AWAKE in
The WORST grey mood
A WHIFF of pink bloom –
Shifts all

Georg’ann

When did she become my RIVAL?
What is the reason for her SPITE?
She calls out, “Hey CHICK, watch this”
in a taunting, yet WHINY voice.
A WHIZZ on roller skates,
she zooms past, backwards.
Under the disco ball
I catch a WHIFF of her bubblegum

Heather

He was a GAUNT man, seeming to EXIST in a world apart. I had studied him carefully from my vantage point, my usual spot, in the café. I only saw his BERET and tweed jacket (white button-down collar visible, naturally), with wisps of hair sticking out at odd angles. Curious. He definitely did not match the sunny terrace, filled with young people laughing and talking. Since I saw him last week, he has DWELT in my imagination. And here he is again. I pause on the sidewalk. Shall I approach and strike up a conversation? Take the table next to his, even as that disrupts my routine? I think not. Let him continue as a figment of my imagination, grist for my writer’s mill.

Georg’ann

Climbing, each STAIR concave
the entire structure shaking, paint peeling, bits of rust.
A neglected rural MOTEL
no EXULT at our arrival, or anyone else’s.
Anonymous here we KNELT, hands reverently folded,
as we said our prayers.
Believing goodness still DWELT
within

Heather

At times, it seems that the LEAST and smallest thing will set it off. I ABHOR the physical feeling of a migraine episode, though I would classify it as less than AGONY. As far as I know, it is only pain and will not kill me. I am resigned to the fact that that is simply the way my nervous system is wired.

Georg’ann

This PHASE now waning
RAINY season coming soon
AGONY comes too

Heather

I move from FEARS of aging and losing abilities into something more strategic. If it appears that pain will be the CHIEF THIEF, stealing quality of life bit by but, how will I manage? Where can I slow the progression? How can I maintain mobility?

Georg’ann

Each child has their own
tooth FAIRY so SWIFT coming
Sweet THIEF in the night

Heather

There once was a jeweler named Cardi
Who in her HASTE not to be TARDY,
Penned KARET then CARET
And could hardly bear it,
Cardi, the jeweler foolhardy!

Georg’ann

Tethered by a child’s glittery sign
“Welcome to the best HOUSE ever”
Making PLAIN her joy
Such are the treasures I CARRY
No CARAT as precious

Heather

I groan. I frown. Finally, I steel myself to review the remains of last night’s post-performance party. Stomping through the apartment, dismayed at the mess, I contemplate my next move. I suppose I COULD require them all – once they are SOBER, that is – to come and clean up after themselves. Though, frankly, I don’t think there is enough BORAX in the entire state of Texas that will restore this place to what it was. Playing nursemaid to the hottest band in Austin definitely has its drawbacks.

Georg’ann

I love cinnamon TOAST, and sourdough too.
Spread with enough butter to put my AORTA at risk.
No MORAL purity to my choice.
Won’t eat the meat, yet
gladly lap the mother’s milk
not meant for me, or my kind.

Once when I was 11, we traveled to upstate NY,
a FORAY to distant relatives
who owned a dairy farm.
I was allowed to milk a brown cow
white heart shaped spot on her forehead.

We stayed several days,
visited parks and even Niagara Falls.
But my favorite days were the ones when the adults chatted over coffee
tended their normal routines,
I was left free to explore.
Clothes cleaned with BORAX hung in the breeze.
I wandered in the pastures, making my way to every child’s favorite playground,
a rock lined stream.
The sound was quintessential babbling brook.
Later, exhausted from my adventures,
I’d curl on the couch reading true crime magazines.

My mother and I never saw that family again,
though my grandparents relocated to there a few years later.
When they went, I inherited
the Good Season salad dressing shaker.
The final remnant, never another meal together.

Heather

If I could CHOSE
With FRANK abandon
A different way to be
In this oh-so-serious world
Of ivory towers and bureaucracy
I would cheerfully ADAPT
My behavior with nary
A QUAIL or QUALM
Trading caution and trepidation
For joyful bounce and glee
But the halls of academe
Dictate a restraint and decorum
So no singing in the reading room or
Dancing in the halls for me!

Georg’ann

Driving down the COAST
from SFO towards Santa Cruz.
A few side road explorations,
provisions procured for a picnic.
Laid out above the crashing sea:
warm artichoke bread and a wildflower decorated goat cheese round spritzed with salt spray air.
No timeline DRAWN for arrival
the day is ours,
patterns reworked to reduce BLAME potential.
Wild exuberance knows no QUALM

Part 2

We’d forgotten that BLAME always finds a way to seep in, that permissions given will become the clubs that bludgeon.
Soon exuberance comes with a side helping of qualm,
only in stolen moments
created from discrete deceits.

Heather

Delicate LEMON yellow flowers dance above brown leaves and old mulch. It’s a SCENE I relish every spring, eagerly watching from the watery PANED windows of our old house. A woodland garden UNDER our beloved linden trees.

Georg’ann

Crystallized, the HONEY no longer pours
the rich amber liquid has paled
into golden clusters, white at the edges.
Yet we keep the jar
resting on the bottom shelf, hands passing over her multiple times a day
in the reach for NICER pantry choices.
At this stage is it SANER to toss the remainder or commit to finishing?
I’m not ready to let her go,
she still belongs UNDER the long line of dry goods,
a golden reflection on what is worth keeping,
what is ready to be let go.

Heather

The words tumble in my mind, as if in a snow GLOBE. No matter how I shake them, they fall at random, no patterns emerge, no inspiration to be had. I feel as if my own mind has played a PRANK on me, as it was my brain that set the CHAIN of words in motion. A most peculiar SNAFU!

Georg’ann

Given past celebrations,
It was natural for my expectations to ARISE.
There was a mythos to maintain that I would create some marvelous, seasonal elegance served with sparkle and elan, even if only weaving that magic for myself.
I got out the shiny red STAND mixer from the closet and set to work creaming butter and sugar.

While it whirred away, I enjoyed a small SNACK of leftover lentil balls with lemon and buttercruch lettuce to sustain my energies. It was too early to pop the champagne, though my mind was giddy thinking of the addition of pear brandy and the single sugar cube that increased the effervescence a hundred fold, so many bubbles rising up the glistening flute.

Mid reverie, my daughter sent a series of photos and texts asking for my assurances that her dough was indeed rising. She wanted no SNAFU in carrying on the 19 step traditional Easter braided bread for her own celebration. Throughout the morning and mid day we continued periodic exchanges until the final photo of the glazed glory had been sent.

Having come from 5 generations of broken mother-daughter bonds and having had no traditions handed down to me, in every way she is my resurrection story.

Heather

“By the gods above, I SWEAR to have my revenge!” With these words, Sir Albert, leapt from the table and pulled his sword. His companions exchanged uneasy glances; they were unsure of their chances of success. The Queen’s men had privately warned Sir Albert not to force her hand – at least, not yet. But all of that was now beside the point – the die was cast.

Murmurs of shock and disapproval could be heard from every corner of the banquet hall. All eyes turned to the table where the royal entourage surrounded their Queen. How would she respond? While it felt like an eternity, in fact it took only a moment – Queen Matilda raised one eyebrow, and as one, the guards stepped forward preparing to EJECT Sir Albert. But no sooner had they stepped away, than the good knight and his companions drew swords and like oil on a fire, a chaotic MELEE broke out.

The Queen maintaining an astonishing level of sangfroid, stood up and walked out, shielded by her faithful guards.
In the meantime, Sir Albert signaled to one of his men who made his way to the opening with a LEDGE wide enough for him to stand on. Blowing a horn in a prearranged signal, what at first looked like a bit of bravado was now revealed as a plan to take the castle by force.

Where had Queen Matilda gone? Would her army hold? And had Sir Albert correctly calculated the amount of force needed to succeed? He and his men would pay dearly otherwise.

Georg’ann

We went to get the results
routed through ortho
no direct admit to a SPINE specialist
she holds the image in her hand but tells us nothing

His back like the contorted hazelnut
that withered in the garden outside the temple
where he passes his days

More than a TRACE of anger
at a system in which what is clear to the eye goes unseen
years of pain dismissed
parts are not connected
each piece treated in isolation
extending into years
no concern for correlation
between the complaints

Having traveled the GLOBE
this is the where he finds ease
in music, basketball, poetry, birds, a rock garden.
My own restless spirit challenged
a test of my ideals, right there
beyond the window LEDGE
across the flagstone path
sits a daily meditation.

Heather

Tired and unsure of herself, Fiona McDougal was AWARE of being a new face in a new neighborhood. She was struggling. This new assignment was very important to her, and she couldn’t afford to let what happened last time repeat itself. But she just couldn’t shake the sense that something FISHY was going on: subtle shifts at the local market, people coming and going where they hadn’t before, and an overall tension when she walked in on conversations at the local pub. Wondering if pushing on that tension would help her SCOUT out the LOCUS of the problem, she headed towards the pub. At the very least, she’d have a minute to talk with Sal, he always knew what was up. Anyway, it was almost time to head back to the precinct to type up report. As good a time as any for a short break.

Georg’ann

My yesterday is now complete,
Permission given to RAISE the blinds, begin again
Each day SHOWN new guides
These BOSSY words taking me to unexpected places within
I’ve won more than a few COUPS,
subverting their tyranny
toward my own mastery
Like a Ninja, my FOCUS and LOCUS are ever changing
Patient, alert, curious as to where the practice will lead.

Heather

I got really QUIET. It was hard to realize that I was going to have trouble finding a CHEAP place to live. The reality of rent – what a hard lesson to LEARN! My best shot would be to LEASE that last place I looked at, the one with the LEAKY faucets and the broken doors on the kitchen cabinets. Barely room to turn around and a Murphy bed that was so lumpy it looked like a bas relief map of the Alps. Putting on a brave face and a big smile for the leasing agent, I stirred my tea, saying, “that last place will be great, Jessica. I am excited about the LEAFY view out the window. I am just glad to find a place in New York. It’s a dream come true!”

Georg’ann

Being a hearty HUMAN, Gwen loved to blaze the TRAIL, water-filled FLASK slung over her shoulder and a packed lunch of grains, beans, and LEAFY greens in her backpack.

Heather

The presence of a CLOUD or two is not enough to keep me from breaking out in a SWEAT on our walk. Our trip has taken us from the pleasure of a little SPARK of spring to being thrown into summer. At every corner we SMASH ourselves into whatever little bit of shade is offered by the telephone poles and street signs.

Georg’ann

Bad taste to BOAST about the CRASH,
AWASH in the attention given
for surviving the tire SLASH, the mega SMASH.

Heather

Having a SPARE moment, I am attracted by an AROMA, that particular scent that announces the presence of the New Age. Following the waves of patchouli, sweet grass smudge sticks, and Nag Champa incense, I spy the hand painted sign “The Happy Witch” with “TAROT, Crystals, and More” scrawled underneath. Being not the 1980s but the 2020s, I am not surprised to see all the social media symbols in the window. And of course, the obligatory CBD display. I have not been in one of these stores since the last century. I’m curious as to what the RATIO of 1980s to 2020s weirdness will be. Will we throw the I Ching to determine what ails me with a gummy offered as a solution? Will the cards be real or virtual? Let’s find out…

Georg’ann

Morning STORM
Thunder rumbles, rain strikes the window.
A symphonic spring cleaning leaving puddles for birds to bathe and children to splash.
Unlike the OTHER night,
that one shook the house tossing debris in a rage,
sirens wailed the warnings.
In some areas they sent in ROBOT dogs to search the rubble.
RATIO continues to skew
toward proportions I cannot calculate

Heather

So many preparations for the FEAST! I am a bit lost and uncertain of what would be a FAVOR and what would be a nuisance. I am willing to FORAY into the unknown, to take a risk in order to be helpful. Alas, my usual go-tos are not called for: no pretty FLORA in family heirloom vases, no cooking tasks assigned. Instead, it’s a time to wait patiently on the sidelines, with small gestures of support and an abundance of love.

Georg’ann

I hear her stir, wonder if she’ll wake or just shift position.
Maternal instinct has roused me from sleep,
now I wait in quiet anticipation
the soft glow of the NIGHT
light coming from the bathroom,
a CRACK between two spaces.
Wired for survival,
in a time where danger is
the air we breathe
SPEAR in hand, ready to pierce.
Is it still possible to MARRY vigilance and rest?
Returning to this moment,
her breath is steady, I release
Ready to join her ABORD the
dream ship
sailing toward an island
abundant with vibrant FLORA
Nothing to fear, we sleep.

Heather

A crowded room was the last PLACE she wanted to be, but there was nothing for it, but to refuse to show her SHOCK at the news. There would be time enough to take STOCK and make a plan on how to move forward.

Georg’ann

Enough time has passed
making it possible to come together
without lightening bolts of energy
drawing CLOSE holds no risk
SCORN no longer holds court
over lunch we’ll take STOCK
retell our lives in broad narrative arcs

Heather