MONEY didn’t enter into it. At LEAST, that’s what she said about her new romance with a less than blueblooded beau. And now, Lucy Shea was lying in the morgue. PI Jones would admit that money did have something to do with why he agreed to take this case. So when Shea’s wealthy grandfather was impatient with the police, and wanted his granddaughter’s lowlife boyfriend followed, Jones said yes. Now, here he sat, in his car, freezing, following the boyfriend. He had an EERIE feeling that all was not what it seemed with this case. Oh great, he thought, as he saw said sleazy boyfriend leave the liquor store and walk across the street into the local nudie REVUE. Why didn’t I become an accountant like my mom wanted, Jones thought for the hundredth time that day. Sighing, he shrugged off his tweed jacket, grabbed the leather one and a hat from the back seat, thinking here we go.

Georg’ann

Trying to REACH you
please REPLY.
An invitation to go RETRO,
REUSE our gogo boots,
boogie at the Soul REVUE.

Heather

A Wordle Writes reflection

I find these days that current events EVOKE such strong feelings that I am frequently exhausted. Today is no exception. So as I sit to write, I struggle to be clever, to find a bon mot, a TROPE that will impress. I SWORE to get to writing earlier, to not put it off until evening. I like the version of me that solves the puzzle and writes before noon. But alas, that was not to be the case today. Yet, i couldn’t let it go. For you see, even after all this time, I still ADORE this writing practice. It is joy, not at all a CHORE.

Georg’ann

She liked TEPID tea in big mugs.
No LOVER of hot sips or saucers.
Hands wrapped around warmth,
thoughts gathering, then set down.
The cup, not the thoughts.
Bringing it back to her lips
finding it had gone cold.
SCORE another one for time lost.
Back to the kitchen, rewarming
not too great a CHORE. Though
it’s easy to be forgotten
in a microwave. Found cold again.

Heather

We stand like Alice ABOVE
The rabbit hole, no time to
Think or to count to ten (or even
SEVEN), ready to be a brave DIVER
Into the unknown, RIVET all attention
On the retreating White Rabbit, as we
Jump:
Down
We
Go

Georg’ann

Steadily the rain fell,
giving a decent SCOUR
to the grunge of January.
Day one of February bright,
weather gives us a BREAK.
News does not. Today tariffs.
Marking shifts in anyway we can,
our REPLY to this, attempt humor.
Saying goodbye to produce,
we use a Mexican avocado
to make Tariff Toast, served
with Cafè Bustelo instant espresso.
As you say, each day a firehose
of despairing actions.
Surely he will RIVET us to disaster.
Still birds come to the feeder.
One of an infinity of pleasures.

Heather

Good Morning!

I am so CLEAR
When the sun is near
My tummy rumbles
I out of bed tumble
Coffee is what I am ABOUT
A whisper can feel like a shout
Until a piece of buttery TOAST
Past my lips does coast

Georg’ann

Curious hands TOUCH my body.
They are my own. Wandering
slowly, becoming acquainted.
Reverence in my finger tips,
full palmed care. No TOKEN
meeting here. This. This is
sorrow joy melding. Tenderness
of a new mother marveling
as she greets her newborn,
familiar, yet so unknown.
Touch and be touched,
butter melting into warm TOAST.

Heather

The strap of her PURSE
Long like a NOOSE
Her tenuous hold on life
Like a LEASE about to expire
Gotten under FALSE pretense

Georg’ann

Ignore the NOISE, press
PAUSE. Exploring scent, texture
of FALSE cypress, be.

Heather

Ms. Devon sighed. It was hard enough teaching high school Biology without what amounted to a PARTY in the back of the classroom. For now, when the class was taking a break, it was a MINOR inconvenience. But the break would end, and so, too, would the ruckus. She stopped and observed them. She had to admit that the SHEER audacity of this band of students was amusing. Just then, the friends started getting louder, language became a bit BLUER, and definitely RUDER. This lesson on mammals could become an “UDDER” disaster!

Georg’ann

I came forward to SHARE,
seeking solace. Your REPLY
so QUEER, pushed me back
UNDER. Collapsing deeper
into this hole. Packed now in
heavy, dark dirt. A bulb waiting
for the earth to warm.
When lambs suckle at the UDDER,
peace seems possible, then
my shoots will emerge again
bearing beauteous apricot blooms.

Heather

Just for a LAUGH, let’s go on a joyful, playful SPREE — a lark, a gambol, a frolic. We’ll have such a time, and to it, we will forever REFER as the time we danced ourselves into a FEVER, like two little sillies who, for just a moment, wanted to forget how sad, angry, and painful the world is sometimes.

Georg’ann

Ready to CLOSE this day,
GREAT efforts expended
cleaning projectile tomato soup
out of grey office carpet.
Hit the walls, chairs, a door,
underside of the table, pictures.
Two rooms sprayed evoking
a gruesome crime scene.
It wasn’t my mess, yet I was called
to aid in making it disappear.
Being the FINER fixer, capable
of steadfast dedication to tasks
without grumble or collapse.
You came in with a low FEVER.
Now my back aches, eyes burn.
We’ll both sleep soundly tonight.

Heather

The HOUSE up on the hill seemed to SHUNT all the bad vibes away. The neighbors constantly marveled at the family’s good fortune. At least, that was the case until Aunt Agnes came to town. With her tight gray curls, gray floral dress, gray cardigan, and battered brown suitcase, she moved in and changed everything.

Georg’ann

The children have GROWN,
as happens. And yet part of me
NAIVE, barely able to comprehend
their capabilities. How long ago
I prepared their LUNCH, tucked in
a note, later tucked them into bed
with stories. Strokes and kisses
across foreheads, curls of hair.
Laughing together at movies
with HUNKY STUNT men,
latex suited vixens or doe eyed
Ingenues. Now wait for word.
Adulthood a SHUNT, diverting
bloodline flow in new directions.

Heather

Woke up today, feeling relieved that my headache from yesterday was probably gone. My migraine episode can feel like a FROWN, hovering somewhere above my body. The migraines can even TINGE the way everything looks, like I am looking through a filter on a camera lens. Unfortunately, being a “migraineur” can make me dread a SUNNY day, as direct bright light can bring on the headache part of the migraine episode. The brain is such a fascinating organ, and I wish mine were a little less interesting.

Georg’ann

These words evoke commercials
for laundry or feminine hygiene products.
FRESH scents, only a SCANT
amount to infuse or cover odor.
Sheets or women SWING.
Cotton fabrics, long tresses
sway in soft breezes.
SOUND of birds chirping.
Maybe children laughing.
Definitely skies always SUNNY.
Meanwhile I lay here kinda stinky.
Everything overdue for washing.

Heather

With my apron on, like a good BAKER, I wrestle the ROUGH dough with deft movements of my WRIST. Morning light is filtered through the PRISM in the window. I admire the colors on display, like jewels scattered across the wall. Eager for the next step, when I will pull the bread from the hot oven, set it out on the wire rack to cool. That is a moment I love: when I can hear the crackle of a CRISP crust as it cools.

Georg’ann

Interactions characterized by GRACE.
Textured and bittersweet. Nourishing
like the apple cranberry CRISP
we also share, drizzled with cream.

Heather

Foggy BRAIN, heavy limbs
Feels too CRUEL to wake
Dreams call me back
Heavy lids close
Magic of sleep
And I am back
Eating a CREPE and
Sashaying along the Left Bank

Georg’ann

Dress of her dreams,
sadly beyond her means:

As WATER it pooled
luxury worth any PRICE
azure CREPE de Chine

Heather

The large GROUP refused to SPURN the smaller one, for even if it gave the many the UPPER hand, it was unnecessary and cruel.

Georg’ann

WATER flows beneath.
SUPER thrills from UPPER ledge.
Stick race in motion.

Heather

FORGE a heart so strong
REACT not to the provocations
The REACH of love is long

Georg’ann

Warm WATER cascades
down my body, within
a glass capsule, out of REACH

Heather

The day had been a bit of a TRIAL. That statement, unfortunately, could be said about far too many of her days. As she pulled a KNIFE out of the drawer, she wondered how she was GOING to keep up a façade of normal. Or maybe she could SWING in the opposite direction and stop pretending. Would that be a disaster? She gently touched the top of the cake. Cool enough, she decided. These next months were going to require some thought. Well, sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, she thought wryly. And then, she almost laughed out loud. Quoting the gospel of Matthew was probably not a good sign. Or at least an odd sign. As she went through the motions of continuing her baking project (gathering ingredients, pulling out a bowl), a whole series of images in her head were CUING up. The confectioner’s sugar formed little clouds of white dust as she measured it out and began blending it into the butter. But her mind remained elsewhere. She imagined friends with puzzled faces, heads turning as she quoted whole passages from one religious text after another. She would definitely be signaling stress. Shaking her head, she began the delightful process of ICING the cake. A soothing, familiar activity that released all worry and settled her gently and firmly into the present moment.

Georg’ann

Pudgy little hands exert FORCE
squeezing the silver CLAMP.
Walnut breaks open, sharp pieces
scatter across the table.

Long fingered, bony hands press
lemons, rolling them back and forth
against the black countertop
to get them really JUICY.

These hands take turns beating
sugar into softened butter
whipping up ICING. Together
creating a layer cake so sweetly.

Heather

Let’s PAUSE the film – I feel like we are STUCK in a moment, and I think we should take advantage of it. This movie is about to take a dark turn. I am betting, given the change in the SOUND of the music, that we are about to encounter the titular giant SQUID. I want to get more popcorn before we get to that part. Well, and also I would like to discuss which character we think is going to die first. What do you think? Am I right?

Georg’ann

Visiting my artist friend.

We met at your home,
conversed the day away.
A PAUSE of everything,
nothing else but us.
I brought you imported pasta.
Knew you’d appreciate its artistry.
Each bow tie striped
in rich shades of green, ochre,
magenta and black. Precise lines.
Together pondering the extraction
of SQUID ink. Then wandered
far and wide in the world of form.
Reverberating off one another,
reveling in all that is creation.

Heather

It’s Polar Vortex Time

What’s in STORE for us, my love?
Winter winds will blow, POWER could go out
LOWER temperatures will surely keep us in
Let’s make a cozy BOWER in front of a fire
And dream of hot green days
when we need the MOWER,
when we spend sultry hours on the lake,
taking turns being the ROWER.
Let’s huddle under the blanket
And keep each other warm!

Georg’ann

No PRICE for taking
time to RELAX. Let winds guide.
ROWER, set down oars.

Heather

Looking for a SPICE or herb has become, on occasion, a bit of a nuisance. On the rack where the jars sit, nothing is in alphabetical order. There are nooks and crannies on the counter where extra bits as well as the overflow from the rack reside. And then there are less frequently used and exotic items in the pantry. As someone who relies on visual memory for finding things, it can feel like a barely held together order. It could be tidied, and I suppose I will do so someday. But when it doesn’t annoy me, the truth is having to search for things slows me down and makes me ponder. Occasionally, the SIGHT of one herb next to another serves as a spark of inspiration. Perhaps it’s a bit SILLY, but the helter-skelter quality of my spices and herbs can feel rich and abundant, quirky and distinctive. A cabinet of curiosities in the kitchen, if you will. I think that I will keep it this way a little longer.

Georg’ann

In the playroom she took my ORDER,
served me a layered felt sandwich
with wooden beet and carrot soup.
Her sous chef, a teddy named PATCH.
Later we danced with colored SILK
ribbon twirling around the room.
Never tiring of being SILLY.

Heather

A familiar PLACE to be:
Speak, PROVE oneself worthy!
Plain PROSE best, yet —
Still feel nervous and small,
As if solo and spotlit on
A stage, about to declaim
In unfamiliar poetry

Georg’ann

No CLEAR answers to summarize,
a BRIEF with nothing to PROVE.
And yet, being PRONE toward
discernment, I lay out the dilemma
piece by piece in careful PROSE.

Heather

I give up. Nothing is forthcoming – more time and imagination is needed to EQUIP my brain. My words – a series of non-sequiters call up non-sense and silly rhymes: the thrill of a TRILL, LAITY filled with gaiety, and the GLINT of a FLINT. I give up indeed!

Georg’ann

No JUICE in my tank
Nothing left to BRING
Can THINK no longer
This FLINT won’t spark

Heather

I felt WEARY as we walked into the beautiful building. So many trips up to the state capitol, trying to put our own STAMP on the laws of the land. You and i reminisce about the time, many years ago when we walked in, an army of mostly moms, babies, toddlers, midwives. It was our training ground, where we started learning how to navigate the halls of power. And now, 20+ years later, I COACH a younger generation (some young in years, some in experience), as we were coached before. My weariness begins to lift, we are energizing each other with our clear united purpose. We do not judge the decision makers (no obligation to name a fraudester or a QUACK). We recognize that any one of them is a potential ally or champion. We stand together – BLACK, white, young, old, across class and education – a new army of ordinary citizens. It is a joy to see the faces light up, as the newcomers realize there is no special KNACK required to navigate the halls of power, no brilliance needed. We bring honest representation of our own lives; we speak to the consequences of decisions made behind closed doors. And light – we shine so much light into the dark corners of this building! We are truly stronger and more powerful together.

Georg’ann

How sad he’d be to know

Intern arrives with a winter BEARD.
From under a cap coarse curls escape.
He wears a plaid flannel shirt.

These three things form
a disquieting CHAIN of associations
to someone else, throw me off.

Distracted by feelings I do not want.
SCANT dose of dormant poison
activated.
Past has a KNACK for surprise arrivals.

Heather

Dressing up, the first time

CLASP catches and
The necklace falls into place
Anxious glance,
Uncertain smile
Gentle reassurance
Not TACKY at all, my dear
It’s quite FANCY and lovely

Georg’ann

FIRST sound to greet day
FLOCK of geese. Honking chorus,
FANCY navigation.

Heather

The NOISE rising up from the factory meant that everyone was pushing to surpass this week’s QUOTA. There was a BROAD expectation that the foreman would make good on a promise to reward everyone on the floor. Sarah has even brought her good CLOAK instead of her usual, everyday coat. She was really hoping that the reward would involve some sort of going out on the town. Life had been way too dull lately, and she was itching to have some fun.

Georg’ann

Cold night downtown, someone
hunched over the street planter
searching through the snow.
What was lost, was it FOUND?

Dear figure draped head to toe
with a tattered quilt,
your warm invisibility CLOAK,
days later I see you still.

Heather

It was normal for her to take a little stroll when struggling with an idea. So this morning was not unusual. Thinking that a nice little AMBLE might clear a few cobwebs away, she laced up her boots and grabbed a sweater. As she strolled along, her mind began to wander. How was she going to resolve the question of the SLAIN vicar being discovered at the local cantina? This new plot was not yielding up its secrets very easily. She sighed. Was there such a thing as a poisonous LARVA? Could swallowing a worm in mezcal kill someone? Ugh. She was probably going to have to do a TOTAL rewrite. Her agent would not be pleased.

Georg’ann

My own voice soothing
me, murmuring “Oh HONEY”.
Moving, then, into meditation.
Or attempting, as is the practice.
At first sitting stiff, like a BOARD.
Find my FOCAL point, beginning.
Until that bright red cardinal lands
on a branch in the periphery.
Is he not worthy of my attention
pulling me out of thought
and into presence. Still alert,
I soften. Breathe fully.
Belly rises, shoulders lower
TOTAL absorption in the moment.

Heather

Saturday Morning

It made it all WORSE, taking the BLANK slate of her mind in the morning, filling it with headlines and stories

As if she had tried to add a PINCH of salt to a bowl, and instead, the whole container had dumped out, ruining the dish.

Outside, winter filled the world, looking DINGY and bleak. Some unknown critter had opened the suet feeder, dumping the contents out, lost now in the snow.

A fat wren poked through the snow-covered feeder, a red cardinal swinging on a branch nearby.

Georg’ann

Deep layer of new snow.
From window only a TRACE
of what lies beneath.
Hesitant to SPOIL with boots
or shovels. Holding onto this
new landscape. Yesterday’s
DINGY world made bright.
Clean and sparse this canvas.
Vivid rendering of branch and bird.
Everything given a different form.
Precious as all new life
before the marring, the overworking.

Here this white covering,
there grey ash and rubble.

Heather

Walking along the shore, I wade into the shallow waters. The sun is sharp and bright. I am cautious, unwilling to go too far into the shadows under the pier. I can see where the little fishes hover, their bodies suspended just below the surface of the water. Long strands of mysterious green plants unfurl from the pilings, threatening to TWINE themselves around my legs. Like a WHARF where big ships moor, this old structure provides a safe haven for a whole host of creatures. Seduced by the promise of a glimpse into a strange and wonderous world, I inch closer to the pilings. As my toes dig into the cool sand, I shiver. Straining to see into the waters, I am rewarded with the sight of a pair of crabs as they CRAWL along. I stare, trying to record every detail of their movements and appearance. At last, satisfied, I turn back, returning to the firmer sands. The warmth of the sun is startling. I savor that delicious feeling of private discovery, grateful as always for the beach and the chance to walk there.

Georg’ann

Loud MUSIC pulses, lights flash.
Arms CARVE CRAZY patterns,
flailing like hoses released.
Miraculously no one collides.
No elbows CRACK into.
No feet stomp onto.
One man attempts to CRAWL
through the crowd
heading closer to the stage.
Here above the dance floor
I marvel at the movements.
Energetic chaos becoming
choreography. Intriguing unity.

Heather

She couldn’t quite recall the time or PLACE when it happened. But she felt so much SANER when she stopped expecting WATER to be turned into wine or for a tiny, tasteless WAFER to save her soul.

Georg’ann

Discovering the reserve sacrament.

QUICK duck into church
becomes my childhood playground
WASTE not the WAFER

Heather

In SLEEP, moving ABOUT
Feel a DRAFT, pull
Up the covers!

Georg’ann

I can always COUNT on you.
Our time together a BLAST.
Eagerly AWAIT a reunion.
Meanwhile DRAFT sentiments
worthy of cheesy valentines.

Heather

Dinner

A small SCRAP of an idea
A few of the USUAL ingredients
Planning eggplant and tomato
As the BASAL flavors
Some garlic, onion, of course
And two lonely mushrooms
(What else would I do with them?)
As an afterthought:
Green olives and capers
A veritable ATLAS of the
Mediterranean contained
In a single pan

Georg’ann

We felt the presence of some GHOST
mostly in the upper bedroom,
the one with southwesterly light.
It should have been so lovely
with all the windows looking out.
Huge beech tree with thick grey limbs
keeping guard of the property.
Yet nothing felt secure, haunted
as we were. Steps in the hallway.
Something there in the closet.
Our cat would STARE at the door.
Once the ATLAS pages turned
as if by a wind that wasn’t there.
Little things to keep our skin
tingling, knowing we weren’t alone.
Relief when it was time to leave.
Sabbatical over, we moved on.
Over the years we heard stories,
similar experiences there. Oddly,
the owner’s favorite room
was that upper corner one.
Her place to read, write and nap.

Heather

Up and down, ROUND and around
The birds jockey for position
They hop up the chain link fence,
As easily as if up a STAIR
They perch on a post, making like a SERIF
Constant motion, kaleidoscopic color
Against the stark winter landscape
I watch their exits and entrances
Through a SCRIM of snow on the screen,
While on the other side of the fence,
Deer (who must endlessly search
for a SPRIG to eat)
Watch with envy as the birds
Enjoy a free lunch

Georg’ann

Snow falls, wind chimes ring
HOUSE warm, still. SPARK stove for soup.
Herbs in pot, cut SPRIG.

Heather

Oh, January!

Sky has not been CLEAR,
Instead, a heavy snow COVER
A glass of CIDER, and
A few CYBER adventures
Make for a delightful indoor day

Georg’ann

Tiffany’s home office

Her computer STAND moved with the touch of a button. Often she would start her video conferences on her feet and then, becoming tired, would press the button to LOWER it. As the desk moved downward she attempted to move her body at the same pace, landing carefully in her chair, hoping no one paid too much attention to her sleight. Being a rather HYPER person by nature, most people were already used to some bit of motion from her little square in CYBER meetings. We laughed as she showed me her technique, which I employed later that afternoon in a meeting of my own.

Heather

I can hear the sounds of an old Sesame Street song in my head: “at the library, you will find books of every shape and kind…” As I peruse the shelves, the COVER of first one book and then another beckons. Head tilting, I try to ignore the newest TREND, the GLARE of flashy colors, the blurbs that boast. I don’t need to be a literary EARLY bird who is first to catch the next best-seller worm. A well-told tale, some beautiful language, the creation of a world into which I can escape, that is what I want to RELAX. Finally, finding a selection that seems promising, I settle into a chair, hungry for words and stories.

Georg’ann

We SCARF the last bites
of decadent holiday treats.
Play a round of Boggle, excitedly
anticipate a snow storm.
This is a day to DREAM, to dwell
in imagination. Conjure fanciful
futures while enjoying the present.
Allowing ourselves to fully RELAX.
Inside glowing and warm
as the small fire before me.

Heather

It was a MAJOR disruption to the household: someone dared to STEAL Cook’s best pot. Along with a handful of precious knives, the family’s wooden bowl (used exclusively for weekly bread risings), and a bag of sugar. Cook discovered the missing bowl as she prepped the bread. Her routine had been altered because of the holidays. And now, here she was, covered in flour, just setting up to KNEAD the dough when she remembered she hadn’t gotten the big wooden bowl out. First puzzled, then angry (“where did that new girl put the bowl” and other such mutterings were heard), then finally outrage and anger. What a kerfuffle and running about after that! The whole kitchen and then the upstairs swirled around like leaves in a windstorm! As they uncovered what had been taken, fresh exclamations and cries of dismay were heard. In the uproar, no one noticed a set of small, child-sized shoe prints in the snow leading into the woods. Fortunately, the stolen items all landed in the reasonably easy (though not necessarily CHEAP) to replace. (For while they had a staff, it was a comparatively modest household) It was only in later years, once the wooden bowl had been discovered in the back of the barn (gnawed a bit and housing a family of mice), did the grown-up owners of those shoes that had made the prints in the snow confess to being the culprits. Apparently, a complex plan to run away or perhaps to open a bakery for woodland animals or maybe some combination of the two had led to the thievery. It was an oft-repeated tale and a favorite of later generations.

Georg’ann

How might the SCALE skew
if I headed to a BEACH
off grid, on the CHEAP?

Heather

Growing up, I had a firm belief that I did not FAVOR either of my parents. This seemed to confirm the feeling that I had of not belonging in the family. Over the years, I have spent a lot of time unpacking the layers of this childhood experience. But even as I came to understand it better – followed by forgiveness and resolution – it nevertheless left me with DOUBT that I could experience belonging in a family. It has been a happy SHOCK to realize that I do indeed belong. I can still go back to that sad and lonely place, but I have practice at getting out of it. I CHOSE to take the risk of having a family, of building a community. I want to keep making that decision. I embrace the wonderful, difficult messiness of it all.

Georg’ann

Listen to woods, LEARN
importance of leaving HOUSE.
CHOSE long walk. Refreshed.

Heather

Ring in the New

I’ll DODGE the errors of the past, I think
Too much at STAKE, I realize –
for I am no longer a mere girl
or even in my PRIME.
I have less time in front
of me than before
I’m not looking to take center stage –
no high-kicking role in a fancy REVUE –
Yet any life lived well takes VERVE
and quite a bit of NERVE.
So let me pull myself together
I’ll set my agenda –
a new year has arrived –
I must make the most of my time!

Georg’ann

Perhaps it is yearning itself
I YEARN for. Contentment
NEVER aches in the delicious
ways of consuming desire.
Motivated to action, having
the NERVE to strive, to seek.

Whereas I begin this new year
accepting each moment, prepared
to receive what is offered
gratefully. Comfy in my covers
remembering my youthful self.
No hurry to move, nothing calling.

Heather

Once again, I LEARN that I do not know which LEVER to pull to make things magically okay. We run around in circles, the conversation never reaching a satisfying conclusion. My mind scampers like a LEMUR. My body wants to curl up like a hedgehog. There I am: simultaneously prickly and hard to pin down. How do I open and uncurl, risking exposure of vulnerability? How do I settle and be still, risking attack? I hug my arms around myself, searching inside for that little ember of trust. I breathe.

Georg’ann

BOUND to multiple realities,
sitting so QUIET before me.
Requires USAGE of intuition,
learned skills not very helpful.
No playbook for these sessions.
Together we wander shadows
Taking turns guiding, trusting.
She presents as six today,
brings the softest stuffed LEMUR
for comfort as we travel.

Heather

Feeling your hands twist and TWINE
interlacing with my fingers
So cold, STOKE the fire, dear
Get out some bread
(a little STALE, it’s true)
A few cheeses, a salad
We STATE our small needs
We talk about the day
We get settled at the table
Real life, not a set on a STAGE
We sit, our gazes naturally fall
On one another, oh beloved
I could STARE at you for hours

Georg’ann

  At the Norton Simon

Sculpted and painted women,
multitudes of moods, moments.
Among the reclining, working,
gathering, dancing, seducing,
serenely being, there is this one
calling out from her gilded FRAME.
Pale face with wild eyes.
Auburn hair moving outward
into darkness, bright corona.

SHARE a moist blueberry muffin
in the sculpture garden cafe.
Whole afternoon to SPARE,
we SNARE a secluded table.
STARE at passersby. Impromptu
fashion show, non still life
works of art. Guava trench coat
paired with clear plastic heels.
Family all in navy pieces. Curated?
Child around five in tweed jacket,
jaunty red beret askew on a bob,
merrily weaves through the crowd.

Heather