She stood at the lectern,
bad news she had to share:
“Let me be FRANK, our
oceans are BROKE almost
beyond repair. We threaten
the KRILL, a vital piece
of the food chain.”
I listen, and I remember:
“for want of a nail,
the shoe was lost…”

Georg’ann

At the end of the day
what was most wanted
was rest, a hot shower, mind off.
Then Bonnie made a request.
Will you make clementine cake?
It’s so MOIST. In my travel here
I remembered it, longed for it.

So I ALIGN my evening to please.
Tomorrow they will BUILD.
Psyches at work, a process
that can be as if put on the GRILL.
This sweetness I can provide.
Nourishing with citrus and nuts,
bright egg yolk golden yellow.
Contrast to these April showers.

Imagine us as KRILL, infinitesimal
in the vast sea of creation.
Pecking away, bit by bit,
unaware of our place in the chain.
Not ready to be swallowed.

Heather

It has been a long time since I handled fabric with an eye to creating something. Unearthing a box of neglected, undone, or half-finished projects pulls me back to that world. Amazing how SWIFT the return to the memories. I remember how the process would begin: an idea, followed by a wandering in a fabric store. It’s such a physical experience – touching and looking, freeing the mind to wander. Holding, picking up — feeling for drape, weight, looking at color. I would consider what SPOOL of thread I might have in a drawer, if there might be a match waiting to be selected. Taking bolts of fabric to the table, putting them next to each other, considering accents and trims. I think about the parallels to cooking, how like a chef deciding what SAUCE will best draw out the flavors of a dish. I too would look to pick colors and textures that would draw out hidden qualities of the main fabric. Perhaps I should SNEAK out to a fabric store so I can reimmerse myself in this world, rehear the sound of the clerks as they use their forever sharp scissors to SHEAR off pieces of visions and dreams.

Georg’ann

There was a SPACE inside
the forsythia branches 
a completely secluded hideaway.
Heidi and I would SNEAK away, 
STEAL some snacks on the way. 
Inside we’d make potions 
with weeds and water. SMEAR
slimy interior of dandelion stems
across the bottom of our frisbee
come Petri dish. Scientists. 
Once we switched it up, playing
hairdresser. Dolls and ourselves 
got quite a SHEAR. It didn’t occur
that we should fear leaving 
the security of our woody shelter. 

Heather

My dragon tree carries a NOBLE, if unusual, SHAPE. Its limbs are spare; they twist and twine. When I got it, an inheritance from a friend, it made me sad. Its appearance seemed TERSE, as if a CURSE had been put on it years before. Not willing to give up on it, I tended it carefully. Responding to this care, it has begun to flourish. It has grown more beautiful with increasing numbers of long, thin fronds that are deepening in color. Now, it seems worthy of its name, like a ancient dragon, ready to dispense wisdom to those who will listen.

Georg’ann

Large purple potter’s BENCH
standing by the Christmas tree.
Made in secret, carried in alone.
Always the SCOPE of your holiday
efforts were CAUSE for undoing
an old CURSE barring celebration.

That first tree you sneaked
into my apartment while
I was at class. Floor to ceiling.
The time you swooped me
away from them,
drove us twelve hours to the sea.
Once a full set of dishes in Easter
pastels, a basket weave pattern.
An eve of takeout Chinese on a blanket
under twinkle light and pine bough.

Year after year your elixir entered,
making me once again the child
at my paternal grandparents
peaking through the cracks
waiting for the doors to open
into the splendor of tree, pretty
packages, the stuffed giraffe
taller than me. Cookies iced,
accented with elegant silver balls.
Laughter of cousins. Singing.
She who was filled with magic.

It was the last holiday.
Then we left the kingdom.
My mother and I traveling far
with nothing but two satchels.
She attempted, unsuccessfully,
to escape her fate. We wandered
dark woods. I met the woodsman.
He gave me a tree.

Heather

WEARY to the bone,
stretching out on the couch,
socks on my feet,
pillow BELOW my head,
I review memories of the day,
treasures of the mind,
each a precious JEWEL.

Georg’ann

Magnolia blossoms flutter
RAISE yard to an EVENT space.
From window seats, we watch
our crowning JEWEL.

Heather

Sky PLAIN and gray
STORM brewing
Praying for gentle rain
I invoke deities with
A random QUOTE or two
Then notice as a robin
Shakes from its head to
Its BOOTY, and all is well

Georg’ann

Swimming in a liquid forest.
CLEAR water to explore.
Sitting at the table,
MOUTH wants something.
Dream strikes me as LOFTY.
Snacking on Pirate BOOTY
salty puffed corn kinda lowly.
I am in perfect balance.

Heather

She was, despite it all, tonight feeling of pretty darn good CHEER. Admittedly, there was much that could SPOIL it all and throw her back into a MOODY, despairing cycle again. But, no, not today. Today was for recognizing some good things, nodding to her growing community and celebrating those connections. People she had KNOWN for years were now showing up and engaging to make things better. It feels good to work together to push back against the horrible things. And it’s ABOUT time this started happening. She is clear that she hasn’t even reached her QUOTA of connecting yet — oh yes, she thought, we are the river, and we don’t need to be the dam. We are getting organized for real, and things will change for the better.

Georg’ann

She prepared the GUEST room.
Lotion, calming pillow
scent to spray, if desired,
into softest sheets.
First spring TULIP, yellow,
in a vase by the bedside.
QUART of fresh farm milk
for morning granola
and afternoon tea.
Kindness always replenishing.
No QUOTA being filled.

Heather

I can be clear and SOLID in my feelings, and yet hold space for regrets. To say “I’m SORRY” does not always convey the complexity of my experience.

Georg’ann

BOUND to regret
if I bring you in home.
Raise you from stray
turning into family.
ROYAL black princess
emerald eyes, velvet coat.
Another kitty love STORY.
Try to seal my heart.
Not let it be captured.
Whisper “Goodnight,
I’m SORRY”.

Heather

“BOAST if you will, child, but you still need to PRESS the clothes. And there they lie, soapy and in need of a RINSE. Oh, I CURSE the day I married your father!” So saying the wicked stepmother turned away and flounced out of the room. Observing this performance, our heroine continued on with her drudgery. This Cinderella, though, had a secret: she kept herself sane and hopeful by recording her experiences in VERSE. This exercise kept her mind nimble, making her feel both productive and smug. She knew the time would come when these words of hers would prove a valuable weapon and a way out of her situation.

Georg’ann

Rebuilt what was BURNT
Didn’t PARSE contributing embers
Singing new VERSE

Heather

A FINAL attempt
to REPOT, a SHEET of dirt
Mama’s treasured plants

Georg’ann

Hours of preparation,
fingers crossed
for a FLUID presentation.
TRACE the arc, this is
a STEEP learning curve.
Teaching a new way of being.
Not easily translated
to a cheat SHEET.
Invitation to personal experience
allowing for aha moments.
Still the uncertain seek tangible
formula, don’t trust this realm.
They want linear cognition.
I offer tangential intuition.

Heather

It seemed a simple matter
to AVAIL oneself of a
BLEND of luck and diligence —
to bend an ELBOW,
put a nose to a grindstone,
and seize an opportunity.
And yet, she found it
required more discernment
than she expected.

Georg’ann

Brain is not QUIET.
Rare the SPARE moment
to dip BELOW the noise
and ponder a fleeting image
of that huge maple tree
with its giant ELBOW resting
on the roof of someone’s porch
as if it were a table.
Massive yet so gently leaning.

Heather

The orchid is finally blooming, in striking shades of MAUVE and deepest purple. It looks like it should have a SCENT, but it does not. I nurtured it, repotted it, and took the time to SWEEP away the mealy bugs that have plagued it. I have been careful not to break or damage the flowering spike when at last it appeared. The buds took their time to appear and to open, each one a tight curved SHELL. I struggled to find a SHELF for it to display its rich beauty. I finally settled on a spot next to a white orchid, their blooms arcing over the fronds of the ponytail palm, my own personal jungle.

Georg’ann

Silent child, expressive face
refuses to speak ALOUD.
Glues buttons on paper.
Quizzical look as we hear
the microwave ding
from the next room. Scent
of Ashley’s CHILI comes
through the door.
He rises from his art, glances
at me before taking a SHELL
off the SHELF. Places it in sand,
returns to resume his creation.

Heather

The idea flew through my head like a COMET, fleeting and rare. It seemed that I could almost claim to have HEARD the words, a start to a new ESSAY, something brilliant, no doubt. Ah, so NAIVE of me to think that this is how writing works, a flash followed by words pouring out. I shift my position, tucking my ANKLE up under me. Thoughtful, I chew on the end of my favorite pen, moving the paper to a more satisfying ANGLE in front of me. No, I realize that drafts and rewrites, and maybe the help of a good editor, are key to writing.

Georg’ann

You’d think getting it in 2 would make it easy. Yet they are the kind of words that could go in so many directions. Exhausted me with all their running around in my brain from this snippet to that one. Their, “oh wait, what about that one there on the outskirts?” No energy to follow any thread to fruition.

Bored.

At this STAGE, I’m giving up. No ANGLE here to take me by the hand and guide me along.

Heather

With QUIET concentration
the BAKER bends over her cookies.
SHEEP, bunnies, tulips, eggs:
all shapes to signify spring.
Wobbles of the arm,
hesitations mar aim.
Now a few MOPEY bunnies
keep a couple of DOPEY
lambs company,
all on the “free samples” plate!

Georg’ann

SWIFT REACH
Fast fall
Glass shatters
Don GLOVES
Clear shards.

This morning
which dwarf?
Part Sleepy
Part Grumpy
Part DOPEY
Not Happy.

Heather

Chipmunks CLAIM space
Compete with squirrels under MAPLE
Crows AMBLE and strut

Georg’ann

Everything so SWIFT. Always
frenzy. Swooping, pecking,
fluttering. Constant motion
like this morning’s scene
at the bird feeder.
Discordant. Lacking CHARM.
Free for all under the MAPLE.

I relate more to the solitary cat.
Taking her morning AMBLE,
silently enters the garden.
Winding her way to seclusion,
curling up for a nap.
Almost completely hidden
under the soft, low
branches of the hinoki.

Heather

Ready to CLIMB into bed, I STARE for a moment more at my PHONE. I miss having a cat to NUDGE at my elbow.

Georg’ann

GUSTY wind, branch falls
More might, hard to JUDGE.
NUDGE taken, will be cautious.

Heather

Family Feast

A LABOR of love: prepping
the roast in the BASIN,
following a treasured recipe,
BASED on those of the elders.
Preparing for hours of roasting, we
will lovingly BASTE and tend.
Sides and salads, pies and cakes,
but all cede pride of place to the big roast.
Filling bellies and souls, all at one go,
holding us all together in love,
around the family table.

Georg’ann

Last night senses shift
after the first spring rain.
FRESH earthy scent allures.
In PLACE of purity, clouds
carry fertility. Earth and sky,
intertwined. Raindrops
land brown, speckle my car.
Air thick with possibility.

Inside an urge to cook, finish
winter staples make room
for something new. ANISE
flavors the SAUCE, warming
with her telltale TASTE –
a hint of licorice, unexpected.

Deer nuzzle one another
on their way to the bird feeder.
Lay WASTE to what wasn’t theirs.
Brown bunny nestles into woody
nest under the Carolina Spicebush
Soft fur juxtaposed with sharp twigs.

Evening gives way to night.
Grey clouds blanket the stars.
Pulling out thread, quilter begins
to BASTE the day onto fabric.
Entering and exiting like breath.

Heather

PRIDE is a difficult thing for me to claim. When I contemplate it, I feel as self-conscious as if I had had a tube of something SPURT all over my clothes, and that this has happened right before I have to stand up and do something very public. A bizarre thing, that imagining feeling proud engenders a feeling that seems very much the opposite: self-consciousness or, perhaps, even shame. Examining this quirk of mine is an interesting experience. I feel a bit like I have struck a match and thrown a tiny SPARK of light into a dark corner of my psyche. It’s a dusty and obscure corner. Perhaps it is time to do a little spring cleaning.

Georg’ann

Too many wars

TRUCE called, then broken.
Ash falls, needed FAIRY dust.
SPARK magic, not rage.

Heather

I took a BREAK from my shift, leaning against a wall outside Tony’s. I was really feeling it today. That dog tired ache in my feet. A busy morning and lunch shift, heck, it’ll do me in these dsys. I used to be able to go forever, but age and arthritis have taken a toll. Seeing a couple of my regulars earlier gave me a little boost, a little surge of energy and POWER to keep going. I take a last drag on my cigarette, and prepare to go back in the DINER. Somewhere, I know a TIMER is going off. Now that Tony is gone, his son, Nico, is in charge. He was a pain as a kid, and he’s proving to be worse as a boss. I don’t want to risk a scene like the last time I was outside too long.

Georg’ann

Three forks, one SLICE.
Tines descend, each fork
a DIVER searching for bottom.
Moving through thick moist
custardy cake, interspersed
layers of thinly sliced pears.

Trying not to devour more
than our share, we each look
at the crowded cafe walls.
Slowing down one sense
by amping another.

Funky art descends from above.
A globe with ring a round
light bulbs becomes a new planet.
Papier-mâché TIGER sits
next to a kitchen TIMER.
Signaling my wild animal instinct.
It’s time for another bite.

Heather

Would I be guilty of trying to HEDGE my bets by attempting to wash the dog and wrestle her SOAPY, wiggly body through the rinsing and drying without ever having to resort to using a LASSO? Or, maybe not?

Georg’ann

Mud splattered
PETAL. After storm stem SLACK.
Sun beams LASSO, lift.

Heather

The VINES cover our
front STOOP. Through the tangle I
push a letter into the box and
watch the postage STAMP detach
and float away.

Georg’ann

POUND of clay in hands.
Waiting for that SPARK
before movement. Intuition
guiding the SHAPE
that wants to come.
Raw lump molded into
a form that bears my STAMP.

Heather

Happy Pi Day!

There, in PLAIN sight, yum!
I, with studied POISE, admire
“A PIECE of pie, please!”

Georg’ann

MOUNT the steps, porch awaits
We came up to this PLACE
to sit with lap blankets, enjoy
cheese and crackers, relax,
watch the neighborhood stroll by.
Three only children saturated
in sisterhood. A day of expression.
Pay the PRICE in aching bodies.
Bickering, then settling into love.
Which looks like one walking
to the store, hunting.
While two stay and gather
tableware, salad greens.
Each PIECE comes together.
Meal making is meaning making.

Heather

I continue to wake up and feel heavy with fatigue. Covid lingers and WOULD severely hamper my day if I hadn’t been through this before. There are advantages, I realize, to having lived 66 years and to knowing my own body. So let me not GROAN and moan too much. I might not be ready to TANGO my way through the day, but at least I can lift my face to the MANGO yellow sun in the clear sky. I can be patient with myself, gently moving forward.

Georg’ann

Ionian sea blue SCARF
wrapped around her head.
No tendrils escaping the silk.

Reaching up, she uncoils,
fabric cascades, a waterfall.
Before me an Aquarian goddess.

I’m here to help her BATHE,
ensuring she doesn’t slip.
Long standing, the DAILY desire

to soak in warm water,
let the washcloth press
against skin. Penetrating

and absorbing simultaneously.
Dry skin absorbs sweet lotion,
softening like PANKO crumbs

mixing with MANGO juice
as components of a luncheon
salad meld into one another.

Heather

Packet of BASIL seeds in hand
THANK goodness for spring
On TRACK for a cheerful day

Georg’ann

This MONTH moves quickly
STARE at new life emerging.
TRACK each bud and bloom.

Heather

She’s an IDEAL friend
Doesn’t WINCE at bad jokes
Welcomes others to her TRIBE
Never acts out of SPITE
Lucky to have her in my life

Georg’ann

TRUCE called.
Waving WHITE flag.
Forgiven in SPITE of
irreconcilable differences

Heather

I am surrounded by bins, lots of COLOR all around. There are balls, skeins, and STRAY bits of yarn spilling about. There’s yellow like a daisy, green like a pickle in BRINE, sky blue, rose pink, dusty gray, and more. I dig my fingers into my stash, sorting by touch, happy in my innocent GREED for creativity and abundance.

Georg’ann

Waning VIGOR dawns.
Moving requires GREAT effort.
GREED for life recedes.

Heather

I pick up a new book, wanting, willing myself to step into my best, IDEAL self. How many times have I tried, searching for ways to be better? Always hopeful, always seeking. I smooth the notebook paper, bustle about looking for a pen. Cup of coffee, lamp on. I stare at the pages. One set is filled with words that I hope to take in, words like magic beans, words I will swallow, and that will take root inside me. The other set of pages blank, empty spaces waiting for me to fill, where I will note my questions, copy out passages, savor small and large triumphs of understanding, a PANEL of white waiting for me to fill it up. I pick up the NAVEL orange beside me, pierce its peel, and watch the oil spray out. I breathe in the heavenly smell, anticipate the bright taste and soft texture. Abundance of nourishment – for my mind, body, and soul. Balancing the book in my lap, holding a slice of orange, I am ready to begin again.

Georg’ann

Invited to visit my brother’s lair.
In midst of grime, piles everywhere
he shows me his hobby.
A WATCH repair desk,
strewn with tiny bits and mini tools.
Drawers full of bands and faces.
He reworks discards with reverence.

Here his thick, clumsy fingers
and construction worker mass
become delicate, precise.
I SAVOR this tenderness.
How rare the opportunity
to be with this part of him.

His daughter stands quietly.
The moment broken by beefy
dog sniffing her NAVEL.
Her giggles pull me out
of bittersweet reflections.

Heather

Under gray skies, days threaten to MERGE, a blur of monotony. So sick of being sick. I wish there was a pill, a food, something to do to ROUST unwanted germs from my body, misery from my soul. Oh, how we all would TROOP to grab that cure! En masse, a demonstration of need and urgency. I dream on, waiting and waiting some more.

Georg’ann

Many grocery deals.
WASTE is THORN. Cook, then cook more.
Enough for a TROOP.

Heather

Covid, Take Three
Confined and isolated within
my own house, within two rooms
my only CHORE to mask to protect you.
It’s an experience of absences:
absence of work –
no reason to EXERT or push;
absence of others –
no guests, no meetings;
absence of schedule –
no pings to ALERT me.
What an odd suspension
of time, of self, of us!
A weirdly unique-to-now moment,
I hardly know what to make of it.
Let’s hope we can process
it soon, in the same room.

Georg’ann

Genetics PLAIN to see
in a quick pass through
the ALBUM. Still a mystery
how traits shift, here so
completely paternal, almost
a replica. Suddenly a series
in which maternal features
dominate the visage.
No consistent through line.
Fascinated by attractions,
commingling DNA, the role
of mirroring and emotion
in shaping muscular structure.
ALERT to fear when I feel her
face inside my own. Solace
she never shows in yours.

Heather

PANIC and hasty action, such an unfortunate combo, yet succumb I did — indeed I CHOSE, and now here I am STUCK, in the corner trying to SCRUB a stain out of white pants for all the world looking like the end of the worst rugby SCRUM ever. I clearly will have some explaining to do, though to whom and when is not yet clear.

Georg’ann

To CRAVE takes energy
I don’t have. For now
passivity in the wake
of ROCKY circumstances.

Nightmares and fitful sleep
the result we INCUR.
You also murmur and flip.
Walls are thin.

Today might be a day to SCRUB
floors, reset the foundation
praying on hands and knees.
This is how I prepare.

Others lock in formation,
arms intertwined. Ready
to meet opposition, waiting
to kick what enters the SCRUM.

Heather

No sense of TASTE, so
EVERY FLECK and bite
requires that I CHECK, for
otherwise, it’s a mystery
meal every time!

Georg’ann

GRIEF cloak worn everyday,
hanging on broad shoulders.
Days when the weight pulls
her over, inward. Movements
slow. At times wrapping around,
a comforter infused with his scent
while she watches tv and eats
STALE cookies. Or looks out
at the WEEDY garden, tea in hand.

We often CHECK in with one another.
As time passes I’ve noticed her
fingering the clasp, not quite
ready to fully release.
Though she is pushing back
layers of fabric. Shoulders visible.
Transforming cloak to cape.
It’s subtle this shifting
from protected to protector.

Heather

Sick as a dog, waiting
to get well, WHILE the
world turns GREEN out
the window, daffodils send
one brave SPEAR after
another into the chilly air

Georg’ann

Blankly staring at the wall,
listening to clothes the dryer.
Occasional scrape of metal
against metal. No rhythm
to GUIDE me toward rest.
Intermittent pings become
my ENEMY. Steady sound
then a BREAK startles, heart
accelerates with sharper clang
or ping. Now the furnace blows.
Jazz duet, the discordant variety
that jangles my nerves.
Are the lights flickering? Yes.
It’s not CLEAR whether they’re
grooving with the machines,
or like me, about to blow a fuse.
Watery, tired eyes. Pulsing head.
Stuck on this unmade bed as if
a SPEAR held me in place.

Heather

Lily really needed a BREAK. But it felt like the SCOPE of her work just kept growing. It was not even March TENTH, and she already felt overwhelmed. She sighed and looked over at her supplies. Being a LEFTY meant she had all kinds of left-handed things on her desk. But she was so busy that she was having trouble keeping her desk tidy, so those handy items seemed lost in the piles.  Even her personal shrine to the house DEITY was looking a little messy. Perhaps it would be wise to stop and sort things out? Surely that will make her more effective later?

Georg’ann

Windswept variables, 
not a single one settled. 
No action is SMART, 
I THINK, when so many swirl. 
Trying to secure what is still
in motion, QUITE likely to 
yield regret. When she’s ready
the DEITY of Decisions will
guide you. Wait, love, wait. 

Heather

From a PERCH above the SHORE, one bird watches the OTHER. All the gulls love to HOVER, watchful, patient surveillance.

Georg’ann

CROWD of purple crocus.
SAVOR this new carpet.
Above golden tendrils HOVER
on buoyant spring branches.

Heather

The hush is BRIEF –
Then it starts –
FLUSH those birds
up and out – FUNKY
tunes shake ’em out –
Lose the FUDDY in your duddy –
Spin till the room goes FUZZY –
Dance-o-rama!

Georg’ann

WATER pours into and out
of cups. Glistening liquid
falling, infinitely fascinating.
CHILD lost in simple delight.

SOUPY mud mixed with a stick.
Stuffed BUNNY and bear
served YUMMY pies and tea.
Their FUZZY fur slightly matted.

Heather

Step right up, SPOUT
your ORDER, we are 
here to please, 
here to set you at ease
The LODGE is open!

Georg’ann

Open minds

We are oh so stuck 
in WRONG LOGIC.
Let new ideas enter, 
find a way
for them to LODGE.

Heather