Her HEART on the verge of healing, she yields to a gentle moment in the park. Shy, a little head toss, hair swinging, slow smile spreads. Hand softly reaches. A little tentative moment to FLIRT, rewarded by an enthusiastic tail wag from a puppy. Sweetness

Georg’ann

Taking a quick BREAK from the morning chores to watch this sweet girl
with her bed head mane of golden curls, puffy pink coat, and RUNNY nose
playing in the snow just past the PORCH.
She pauses and begins a chat, looking up at a bird.
When she comes in I ask her about her conversation.
“I was talking to my grandma, you know, that one that died? She’s an angel in that bird. She flew away, though”

I remember another golden haired girl, 20 some years ago, chatting in the back alley with her deceased grandmother.
Me at the sink, then, as now.
The visions merge then SWIRL
down the drain with the dishwater.
Her eyebrow raised and a sly smile
turns the moment instantly from the realm of nostalgic reverie
and pondering of grandma ghosts
to engaging this playful FLIRT.

Heather