With a pounding HEART, clutching their lucky CHARM, Sam joined the MARCH on the Statehouse.

Georg’ann

Walking from the parking lot toward the TRAIL
How many times have I come this way?
A path to SHARE,
years of walking with friends, lovers, spouses, alone.
Today with an inquisitive little girl, not unlike my own
Eager scamper up that initial hill, turning the fairy tree bend
finding a perfect stick to CARRY
She bounds carelessly
poking into rotten wood and mud filled crevices
balancing along fallen trees
rustling through the leaves
MARCH winds at our back
carrying us, and the threat of
falling branches
we wander where beauty and danger converge
She speaks, my heart splinters

Heather

It was the FINAL line that POSED the greatest challenge: what on earth would RHYME with EVERY?

Georg’ann

Wearing a dark green velvet CLOAK with a heavy metal clasp, Gwavi strode through the village center. Despite her acknowledgment of all whom she passed, no one was fooled. Know to be QUITE a SHREW motivated by GREED.
EVERY person she passed curled their lips quickly upward in false smiles, and the as quickly put their heads down to avoid any further interaction.

Heather

Oh for a PEACH
Within reach
That doesn’t need
Me to AMEND
Like a grumpy friend
With sugar and spice
And everything nice
Must settle instead
For jam and BREAD

Georg’ann

PLATE abundantly filled
DREAM became true, now enjoy
Plenty of BREAD to EAT

*as in plenty of BREAD to spend

Heather

At times, I long for a personal assistant, my very own CLERK, if you will, who would EXIST solely to write down myself thoughts and musings. Perhaps keep my schedule and take notes of things that matter. This miracle of a human would not become BESOT and a dullard nor feel BESET by hassles and stress. Ah, a girl can dream, no?

Georg’ann

Sandy wasn’t sure what to make of her latest lab assistant, couldn’t quite figure out if she was craftily playing a particular ANGLE or was genuinely just a very odd duck. Really she should have contacted references before she HIRED and gotten a fuller picture of what she was dealing with. Sandy watched as Anna created a COMET model all the while muttering about shooting SKEET as if she were having a conversation with someone, complete with all the requisite components of a good exchange- emoting, pauses, clarifications. Sandy was intrigued while also BESET with concern for the functioning of her little realm in the department. She needed no distractions as she sought additional grant funding and administrative approval.

Heather

His face was cold as he turned to me. “You are not doing yourself a FAVOR by trying to WREST control of the program in such a HURRY. Try, instead, a little kindness and persuasion.” I stopped myself from either cursing or spitting at him (proud of me, Ma?), and merely nodded before turning sharply on my exquisite heels.

Georg’ann

What sort of BEING
has crept its way in?
Did it STACK the deck?
MOULD us as it desired?
this FURRY beast ensures
No one leaves in a HURRY

Heather

We FLOAT along the river, on BOARD with tourists, guides, locals. A friendly sort of CHAOS thrives in this environment, quick friendship happen, groups join and divide across the long days down the Nile.
We talk of weird animals: OKAPI, armadillos, giraffes. We compare notes on travels into deserts and jungles, exotic cities and remote villages. Experiences are wildly varied: some have harvested bat GUANO as part of a scientific expedition that accepted tourists as volunteers, others talk of applying to do menial labor or serving as a cook at a research facility in Antarctica. It’s a happy buzz, one I am grateful to share in, a welcome respite from the drudgery of every day life.

Georg’ann

Walking the Point Lobos trail, above the sea, we find SPACE.
Space to watch the waves crash and the birds soar.
Space to inhale the salty pine air.
We sit, talking for hours.
Lulled by the water’s shifting rhythms
and the delight of our sisterhood,
removed from the DRAIN
of the family toxins.
On the huge rock cliffs no space is BLANK,
covered with white GUANO
as if the gulls were icing the cliffs.

Heather

I LACED up my gardening shoes, admiring the SHINE of their newness, not a single TINGE of spring mud or muck marring their perfection. I love them and all the hope they represent of a new season in the garden. Running my hands over the shoes, I anticipate when they are creased and worn, stretched out from days of pulling them off, knowing I will not bother to UNTIE them, shoving my feet in and out of them with abandon. So it is with my gardening: careful, clean clear plans that then morph into a more comfortable, somewhat scruffy, raggedy garden

Georg’ann

Gathering ourselves into a circle,
becoming still.
Maneuvering our facial muscles into expressions of reverence,
striving to look the part.
Some imagined serenity, wisdom
so self consciously wrought.
The CHIME is wrung
sound reverberates
as a candle is passed
someone’s hair caught in the flame,
a whispered SINGE
breaks my resolve to strive.
Crafting meaning is INANE.
ENTRE tu, ma verite
UNTIE the strings
let me fall open

Heather

“What a night, what a PARTY!!” I poke at my buddy, “hey there! ROUST yourself, you big goof! We need to get down the TOWER and over to headquarters.” My buddy groans. “We won, right?” “Yes you ya-hoo. We won.” I am gathering upy stuff, feeling the weirdness of fuzzy dry mouth, having slept in my clothes, and the wrong shoes for the moment on. I turn, “what’s up? Why aren’t you getting ready? Why do yok like that?” “Wait- did I vote?” “Oh geez, of course you did. You are a VOTER!” I stared at him. “You did, didn’t you??” “I, I don’t remember!” And then it started, first as a giggle then becoming big guffaws at the very idea, that one of the two star leads on the biggest political campaign in New York’s history might have forgotten to vote. It felt good to laugh in such an uncontrolled way, after months of tight discipline and work. Wiping our eyes and leaning on one another, we got real
quiet. “You won’t say anything about this to the boss will you?” I looked at those puppy dog eyes, that face that looked blurry in the way one does after a big night. “Nope. My lips are sealed “

Georg’ann

My father believed it was within the REALM of possibility that through persistent effort, in daily infinitesimal increments his arm would have the POWER to hold me as I grew from infant to grown woman. I was his TONER device, a means to experiment with the limitations of logic. What would be the point at which he could no longer carry me on his for arm? He only took into account weight and muscle training, giving no thought to other dimensions and proportions.

He also once told me the number of stories tall a person would have to be in order for a tiger to be proportionate to a house cat.

As I ponder the coming election, I feel his ways of engaging the world influencing the ways I engage being a VOTER. There is a distinct preference for delighting myself in ideas rather than practicalities, wishing to live fully in my own head rather than participate in the farce.

Heather

They AWOKE early on the RANCH, per usual. But this was not a usual day. I could hear them STAMP down the stairs. I was in the kitchen and had made breakfast. Again: per usual. I looked up and decided to hold back my usual greeting. We looked at each other. “Do you feel ready for this, Ginny? Frank?” As expected, Ginny simply looked away. Frank frowned, thinking perhaps if he didn’t answer, then time itself would stand still. “Breakfast is on the table, coffee’s made,” I spoke into the silence. Frank grunted, walked over to the gun rack and stared. I knew what he was thinking. “Sarah slept all night in the STALL with him.” Ginny’s face changed from its usual STAID, prim expression to something harder, more stone-like. I sighed, “look, give her a few more minutes and yourself a second to have some coffee. It won’t change anything, but your daughter will remember that you gave them some
more time.” Without a word, they turned and moved to the table. My own shoulders slumped a little, and then, per usual I started to bustle about and serve breakfast, grateful for a little more ‘per usual’ on this very unusual day.

Georg’ann

Our GROUP stood back respectfully averting our eyes, WHILE Miss Ann changed her blouse. The STAIN was too prominent for such a STAID woman to continue wearing for the remainder of the afternoon. Luckily Joanna always wore layers and had a shirt to spare.

Heather

“QUIET! I can’t concentrate.” Wielding the BLUNT putty knife, like a weapon, I wave it in my sister’s face. “Go away. Mom promised me we could go to the pub for some STOUT and burgers once I finished with the GROUT around the tub.” My little sister stopped her mindless chatter just long enough to say “Can I go? Will you play checkers with me? Will you teach me how to play darts?” “Yes. Now go away so I can finish.” Looking at her cheerful retreat and hearing her excited calling to Mom, I had to admit being home for spring break had its advantages. I just won’t be posting any pictures of my grubby self standing – alone – in the bathtub to go alongside my friends’ photos of Florida beaches.

Georg’ann

GRAIN by grain, the shore experience unites
bonds our GROUP like GROUT

Heather

I call out “READY, or not, here we go!” Matching actions to the words, I dash about searching. “Where are you?” I sing out, once, twice, and then I begin to find them. I ferret the chickens out of their roosts in trees, their hiding places. I end up sticking my hands into odd spots, clambering up into lofts and trees, startling other little critters out of their safe spaces. I finally have the girls all piled back into the coop, all DOZEN of my precious, beautiful hens. I place the last one gently back into her prized spot. Night is falling, and they are quietly clucking and I can hear the rustling of feathers. “You lot are might lucky I haven’t DICED you up and put you in stew pots,” though I suspect they know, as do I, that I could never do that. I walk towards the house after securing the coop against the local predators, animal and human. I have to laugh at myself, “get a hen or two, they said… It will be fun raising chickens they promised… Win prizes at the fair…sell some eggs, Ha!” Well, I better get the DUVET off the clothes line and grab some supper. I need to sort out the egg orders before going to bed.

Georg’ann

in the liminal time between
unconscious and conscious
thoughts are softly edged
reminiscent of sand patterns
under the CLEAR Caribbean sea
QUIET but not silent spaces
that request acceptance
of what the surroundings have to offer
Burrowing into my billowy DUVET,
I listen to the cat breathe
deeply in her dream state

Heather

The springtime SOUND of birds chittering and rustling in the leaves— a  smile flowing its way from my MOUTH to my eyes– to the top of my head creating a slow cascade of delight and wonder that spills down my back and reaches the soles of my feet– my hands, eager to join the sensuous feast,  reach out to TOUCH the damp, chilly ground– I bend in response to the desire, seeking the places where slender green is breaking through the TOUGH brown mat of autumn leaves and winter heaviness– my soul cracks open to rejoice in hope and renewal– I sweep my arms up to the sky soaring with the birds

Georg’ann

On a wide stretch of beach
covered with every variety of rock
we both FOUND the same one
among them all.
We were not together when we
walked the shore in meditation,
listening to the wave music as they rolled the rocks forward and pulled them back
Like hands making ropes of dough.

You took a picture
I carried her home
We both profiled her
The single element we chose to capture an experience as varied as the rocks themselves.
This single ROUGH heart, sand colored,
nestled among the variety of smoother shapes
in cool tones of grey, ivory, and rose colored speckles

Our one heart, etched
life lines criss cross
When days are TOUGH
I hold your heart in my palm feel the steadiness of connection
Friend, your heart is my heart

Heather

We used to meet over by one particular MAPLE tree in the park. We would sit on the ground, our backs slumped against the trunk. Eager to claim our teenage power, we sneered at the children playing on the SLIDE and swings, building castles of sand, playing with dolls. We were past those childish ways, tossing our heads, hair swinging, as we smoked CLOVE cigarettes. Cocky, sexy, vibrating with vitality, we discussed what passed as adult topics: DH Lawrence, Welsh mythology, Tarot cards, the meaning of life. Deadly serious alternated with exuberance and panache, trying on first one persona and then another, as if each was a GLOVE to be tested for ease of fit. We, of course, were playing in the park in our own way, though we would have been horrified at the suggestion.

Georg’ann

Sitting in the HOTEL bar, Leah ordered a martini- not one of those festive, fruity cosmos or a James Bond one with a lemon twist. She went for pure dry alcohol complimented with a creamy blue cheese stuffed OLIVE. This and a few salted nuts gave her great pleasure. She felt confident, independent, ready for her first night totally alone after 18 years of marriage.

Idly fiddling with her GLOVE as she sat watching the bustle around her. There was no rush to be anywhere, she was unaccountable to anything but her own whim. If she thought about it too much she felt light headed, drunk on freedom more than top shelf gin. The devastating hangover she’d wake up to not yet in sight.

Heather

Lifting my face towards the altar, there was just a TRACE from when I CRIED, yet again, despite the years. My beliefs had been tested when she died, and I struggle – still! I usually avoid this place, as it brings it back, fresh as the day it happened. I relive. I weep. And again, I am left, bereft, without a clear CREDO, unwilling to forgive or believe in a god that would take my baby from me.

Georg’ann

Engaged in conversation,
we SPEAK of nothing
as an interior voice silently screams
it’s the THEME of my nightmares, to be unheard
vestiges of the FIEND remain
in unexpected moments
My life CREDO tested once again
the scream becomes a lullaby

Heather

It was PLAIN to me, when I AWOKE that I was dressed more for an outing on some RAFTS rather than an afternoon cruise on a YACHT. I really misunderstood the invitation.

Georg’ann

My words evoke a particular STYLE
Lying here in my modest ramshackle bed
I am transported to a scene
cut from the pages of Travel and Leisure.
Imagining myself draped in a PITHY linen ensemble, appointed with the quintessential straw hat, sunglasses, and strappy sandals, perhaps simple bits of gold casually adorning neck and wrist.
The cheerful soft orange of an Aperol spritz playing off the turquoise sea,
our YACHT suspended in the clear water while we lunch.

Heather

It was a hard night, waking repeatedly and finally giving up in the wee hours of the morning. Chamomile tea, a novel that transported me far away, and finally some rest. Waking to thin, watery light, it was hard to be hopeful that this would be a blue sky day, without a CLOUD to challenge the light. And I was right. As I raised the shades, the rain and gray made my reflection even PALER than I felt, a ghostly representation looking back at me. I felt challenged to start the day in a way that HEALS rather than wallows. Good coffee, a warm bit of toasted baguette, a sharp slice of cheese, an apple that is crisp and not MEALY: this is the start to my day that will sharpen the blurry, watery edges, ground me in gratitude for simple tastes and joys.

Georg’ann

Far from its origin, picked before their prime,
FRUIT of all kinds travel.
Eventually arrive in some PLACE
unknown to their nature.
Shipped in a LEAKY crate
Caveat emptor,
most too MEALY
to justify the endeavor.

Heather

Constance carefully closed the study door behind her. She needed just a moment, even as she knew that any further DELAY in her appearance would wound her Father’s PRIDE. But this was too important and delicate a situation to rush. They would just have to wait for her, the star RIDER, for another few minutes. She strode in ever WIDER circles around the room, thoughtfully tapping her riding crop against her boots. Could she figure out the right questions to expose John’s machinations without risking everything they had worked to build? Angry footsteps in the hallway caused her to abruptly turn towards the door just as it slammed open. “What the hell are you playing at?” Her father’s face was beet red, making it look as if his ascot was choking him. “I …I am sorry, Father.” She could barely get the words out. “I just need a minute – I saw John last night sneaking around the CIDER barrels
I don’t trust him.” “Constance, when will you drop this? John has invested too much in our business to sabotage our work. He was the one who insisted on putting this year’s pressing up for the award.”

Georg’ann

Laying beside the pool
on a basket woven plastic chaise.
It’s late when I claim this moment alone in the dark.
Murmurs come from inside
where the party continues.
Frogs loud in the fountain beside me.
A rectangle of silent shimmering blue saltwater contained and still, like me,
even as I hear the rhythmic calling of the sea lapping
at the shore down the hill.
I imagine my prone body rolling off this lounge, across the brick courtyard and all the way down the hill, over the rocks
and back into the vast womb of the ocean mother.
Satellites move quickly across the sky,
trying, and failing, to disguise themselves as stars or planets.
The SCALE of the universe is held in the tear that descends along my CHEEK
memories release when awe opens the gate.
Another quite, cool, late night.
You and I on the hood of the car, hoping to catch sight of a COMET,
warm with hot CIDER and youthful love.

Heather

“I am trying to LEARN how to EMOTE, Ted. But it’s damn hard inside this SHEEP costume. And why the hell do the stage directions say to SWEEP in gracefully? Have you ever tried to do that with fake hooves?? Ted. Ted. You can stop laughing now.”

Georg’ann

ROUND and round we go, until we fall in a heap
Laughing to hard, we cannot SPEAK,
so very tired yet no inclination to SLEEP.
Our shoes and the wood floor both squeak.
We slide down the stairs – yikes so STEEP-
couch cushion sleds quiet the creak.
Our mother did ask us to SWEEP,
when she sees what we’ve done she’ll freak.

Heather

With nary a PAUSE, the little girl continued to SULLY the white tablecloth with crayons, blissfully unaware of the SURLY waiter headed her way.

Georg’ann

On occasion I like to have cinnamon TOAST and hot cocoa for dinner. Seeking something that feels like transgressive comfort. A desire to nurture Princess Peach Velvet Star, the flaxen haired girl within. The adult part of me more typically prefers salad, bread, cheese, and wine.

Pushing down the lever, noting the SHINE of stainless as I watch the coils turn red. This ingenious little machine takes up prime real estate on the counter next to the blue earthenware fruit bowl. Someone once said my house was curated. Which I suppose is true, though that implies a contrivance that isn’t.

While waiting for the milk to warm and the bread to brown I think through my day, eyes wander the room, pause to note, with no concern, that the floor could use a SCRUB.

Finally the “pop” that always surprises even though it’s anticipated. I generously slather on the butter and feel my SURLY mood melt as effortlessly. Every crevice gets a good distribution of cinnamon sugar, and not a drop of cocoa spilled while I poured it into my favorite mug. The perfect meal to offset a crappy day is ready. Breakfast for dinner is like giving the day a new start.

Heather

The firemen struggled to contain the BLAZE, the detectives were getting clear who was to BLAME for starting this wildfire.

Georg’ann

This morning early daffodils struggle to maintain their cheerful demeanor,
bracing against cold,
they bend their faces toward the earth.
Likely wishing they’d not been quite so eager to emerge.
They’ve gone beyond the POINT of return, not even given opportunity to come inside.
To stand in a vase cut, displaced yet still able to absorb water,
Spring scent wafting out of the SHADOW.

We both CRAVE a bit of sunlight,
that beckons us to reach up, to dance
in a warm breeze, fresh and dew kissed.
Who can BLAME us for folding in on ourselves,
we grew too soon,
into conditions too harsh.

Heather

The candle burned bright, the FLAME flickering ever so slightly. She lifted her tired feet up onto the bench, her ankles ROUND like little tree trunks. She didn’t understand the royal WRITS that had come and taken her men away – her father, her husband, her brothers. Yes her sisters were here, and Granny across the field, but still, she felt alone and vulnerable. Hadn’t the war taken enough from them? What more could the king want? Her hands rested on her belly, her GIRTH seeming as incomprehensible as those pieces of paper with their heavy seals that had taken the men away. She stared at the candle, trying to remember what the midwife had said about when to send for her. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to imagine what BIRTH would be like, but could not get past the ache in her feet and the heaviness in her belly. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a minute, she could imagine getting up and tending to dinner. Her sisters would be home soon and they had things to discuss.

Georg’ann

Changing of the season
in the night an hour was taken
I need that hour, and more
the HOUSE is caving in on me
Every surface covered with life in motion
Laundry, bills, dishes, miscellany, and detritus
Outside daffodils buoyant yellow in the wet grey as snow falls
There is no CHAIN binding me
to task,
only my own inclinations toward order and beauty
The possibility exists to read something PITHY while sipping tea.
Or measure the WIDTH of that colorful African cloth
whose print is full of MIRTH
in hopes it will encircle my GIRTH
The season of BIRTH has arrived in all its bounty.
Given in exchange for only one hour taken in the night.

Heather

I am feeling a GLEAM of hope and not even this ridiculous, MEALY apple can ruin my morning: I have a chance to clear all of my unread EMAIL! Ring the bells! Pop open the champagne!

Georg’ann

Some places are always in SHADE,
light never penetrates,
nor emanates,
under the leather leaf viburnum,
in the far back corner.
BEADY eyes occasionally catch the reflection from the porch light.

Life exists in shadows.
Our eyes are unaccustomed to seeing.
What if we were to ENACT a law
in which darkness was mandatory
requiring different sensibilities
to develop?
Is it worth writing an EMAIL to the legislature
requesting respite from constant light
that we may discover new ways of seeing?

Heather

“Mama, can a MOUSE LEARN?” I pause, the large, somewhat tasteless BERRY in my hands. “Well, I suppose so, honey.” “I thought so! Thanks, Mama!” I turned and RELIT the stove. Oatmeal (with out-of-season strawberries and blueberries offering bursts of color if not flavor) will taste good on this chilly spring morning. But, my brain must have been as frozen as the pond, for it took far too long for my child’s question to sink in. The last time he asked me that kind of question, I was dismayed to find evidence of a homemade flea circus with real fleas. I might REVEL in his cleverness and curiosity, but I decided I better investigate why he wanted to know if mice could learn. Visions of a terrified, trapped house mouse being made to perform tricks began to form in my mind…and the silence from his room was beginning to feel ominous. So, turning the stove off, to prevent a breakfast disaster, I started down the hall, calling, “hey there, what are you up to?”

Georg’ann

Indeed!
Janine had FLAIR, and was a great story teller. My family always loved hearing tales of her WORLD travels over dinner. The only down side were her atrocious table manners, or lack there of. She was one to SLURP and splatter. Most tried to sit out of direct range. I, however, was a more than a wee bit envious of her in every sense and didn’t mind if my blouse bore sauce speckles for having drawn near. Her unrestrained joie de vivre was a quality I hadn’t been allowed, we were not ones to fully REVEL in all that life had to offer, only to enjoy it vicariously.

Heather

It was almost painful, to hear the PEARL earring fall into the vent in the bathroom floor. She looked down, dismayed at the amount of effort she will have to EXERT to fish it out. Pondering the question of WHERE on earth would she find a replacement for that earring, she realizes she has no choice but to try and retrieve it.

Georg’ann

Clear aqua WATER
Holds a WRECK underneath
WHERE history haunts

Heather

As she walks down the hall, the Queen paused to admire her reflection in the large silver PLATE. It was next to a portrait of an EARLY pretender to the throne. A slow smile spreads across her face, a look her courtiers knew and understood as a warning – this monarch had ways of knowing things that baffled even her enemies’ most accomplished spies. (While generally true that one should not RELAX around royalty, there was a ruthlessness to this Queen that seemed to go further than most.) Right now, in this moment, if you looked carefully enough, the way her finger reached out to touch the portrait was less REGAL than it was sinister. Were the rumors true? Had Her Majesty been involved in the Prince’s disappearance?

Georg’ann

Sitting in a sun filled courtyard lined with large potted palms sipping a ginger, beet, & berry smoothie, Raya began to settle after her long journey to this PLACE. While the literal distance was significant, it was the internal trip that most needed this afternoon pause. The background soundtrack played a funky groove – BABEL from people walking by and the chirps of little chicks out with their mother hen. An occasional whir of the blender or a barstool scrapping the tile added texture. Hanging above the prep station was a MEDAL commemorating a win for the Marching Barracudas and a photo pinned behind it of a beaming teenager looking REGAL in her sequined costume. Watching the barista I noted a facial resemblance and began to craft a story of this proud mama and her island girl. I’d arrived fully.

Heather

I stop before the faded photo in its cheap FRAME. Memories flood in: you, me, the waves, the rocks, the SHORE far below. Just beyond the edge of the photo, I stood, lightly holding the reins of my HORSE. You were preparing your fishing line, I was in love.

Georg’ann

Giggling VOICE can’t hush
Playful, her cheeks smeared with ROUGE
She rides pretend HORSE

Heather

There was a GREAT and delightful SOUND coming from the bushes- a FINCH, a sparrow, and a wren were singing loudly. Beautiful, hopeful sounds of spring. I continued my walk down the sidewalk, pausing just a moment, to enjoy the birds. But as we know, spring weather is fickle, and the wind began to pick up. My hair was tossed about, becoming simultaneously all KINKY and sticking out in many directions. I felt a chill from my head, down to my little PINKY toes. Oh, please tell me that is not snow coming down?!? Yet the birds continue, unfazed by the change.

Georg’ann

Inside my head thoughts fall, each like an ACORN hitting the roof.
Solid plunk followed by a quick skitter.
Mostly in the stillness of NIGHT.
In the morning they are gone,
as if stolen by a FIEND.
By now I should have learned to gather them when they land,
seal them in VINYL casing
lest the harvest goes to waste
as the sun turns the sky a PINKY coral

Heather

She READS out loud, hesitating at the unfamiliar words. “Sir Robert took the POSEY from her lily-white hands.” A frown cressed her brow. “Miss, what’s a posey?” “Why a bouquet of flowers. Now, keep going. And speak up, you are like a
little MOUSE, chittering about.” Miss turned and glared at the other small grubby faces looking up. “Silence. At least she is trying. The rest of you are like a herd of MOOSE, staring blankly at nothing.” Behind the teacher’s back, some of the braver children turned to each other, sticking tongues out and waving hands above their heads in what they imagined to be approximations of what a moose would look like and do. Throughout the rest of the lesson, there were little eruptions of tiny voices playing with the words “mouse” and “moose,” for despite the constant disapproval of Miss, they were a clever, sassy lot.
’tis my moose

Georg’ann

“FRESH flowers for sale” said the sign.
Shenae wondered if she’d have all the POISE of Miss Universe if she had a bouquet to carry. She’d been told all her life that she walked like a GOOSE on the LOOSE. It sometimes made her feel like putting her neck into a NOOSE. It was not only her gait that was ridiculed. Her long, broad face was sometimes compared to a MOOSE. This bothered her much less. These were intriguing creatures, majestic and goofy.

Heather

Lucy began to PLEAD, and it was effective. She could EMOTE with the best of them. The fact that she was begging for a little more, a smidge, a mere soupçon more, and that she did this every night… Well, even with that, I struggled to stand firm. Those beautiful brown eyes were awfully hard to resist. Finally I relent. “Okay, here you go, girl,” as I measured out an OUNCE of her favorite food. Being rewarded with vigorous tail wags and a few doggy kisses kept me smiling, even as I felt WORSE for having broken my promise to keep the old girl on a strict diet.

Georg’ann

Enter clear WATER
WHERE silence comes, turtles swim
this moment not WORSE

Heather

Today, along the QUIET, MISTY woods at the edge of the field, it was indeed NIFTY to be awake and see FIFTY sandhill cranes.

Georg’ann

What VALUE is this GRIND
nothing FISHY, change the view
Life after FIFTY

Heather

A sensual FEAST,
Nothing near me to ABHOR.
Beneath the ARBOR:
All this and more,
I am whole
And complete

Georg’ann

Sitting in a small island airport
Everywhere the signs
of destruction
of repair
Life lived in the midst

macro and micro cycles
throughout the WORLD
Every organism, all of time
SHORT distance between
RAZOR wire, ARMOR we wear
And the beauty of a jasmine covered ARBOR

You are in the middle of the cycle right now,
wandering the woods
maybe a bit lost,
You’ll find the way again.

May the path be lined with angels, small human kindnesses, and tender reminders that all is miraculous.

Heather

Thinking of you, traveling by PLANE, a bit more of an adventure these days. Wishing that I could WAIVE away all the obstacles, though I remain confident (not a vain or VAGUE hope at all!) that you will make the most of the situation. May this be all of the problems shoved into the first day and all is smooth sailing from here forward!

Georg’ann

Hurried to arrive at this PLACE
There was no need for HASTE
Ordered the DAUBE, hearty meat served with crusty bread, with some VAGUE notion of recreating my last night in Paris 30 some years ago.

Heather

As part of the PARTY planning, I was ROPED into overseeing the food. While at first a little frustrated (wasn’t I doing enough already?), I gradually accepted the task. In fact, I became so excited by the possibilities, that I began to pick up exotic fruits. My kitchen began to smell and look like a market in the tropics. Guavas set aside to RIPEN, star fruit and pineapple cheerfully occupying bowls on the counter. Papaya taking up space in the fridge and kiwis piled into the nooks and crannies of the produce drawer. I quickly became an expert in sorting out the merely RIPER fruits from the rotten ones. Soon even my dreams were pastel kaleidoscopes of fruit bowls, tropical cocktails, and fancy sorbets. What a joy to turn what started as a burden into a gleeful set of experiments. I was giddy with the possibilities!

Georg’ann

Like low rumbling thunder far off
a storm that may or may not arrive,
that was the SOUND of her GRIEF.
On the outskirts of perception coming along the banks of this slow moving RIVER.
Hands pushing persimmon pulp through the RICER,
sorrow won’t ever be RIPER.
Will the stringy bittersweet mass
be allowed to squish through fingers exploring,
to separate skin, seeds, and flesh.
Or will it be left alone to rot.

Heather