‘Tis us I ADORE
In our PRIME
Unafraid of GRIME
It’s not a CRIME
Together, we soar

Georg’ann

There’s a box of SLATE in the basement
These rich grey layered squares,
with their purple and copper sheen,
have moved from house to house to house
Quite a CHORE to carry, heavy
There was a specific project,
for the little yellow cottage
our first home after divorce
I was drawn to the warm shimmer of color reflected
across the dark stone when it caught the light
no CRIME in holding onto metaphor year after year
Possibilities more precious than any particular project
Meanings vary, as do the pieces waiting patiently
raw form, emerging form
Beautiful just as they are

Heather