It was an image for the ages: how Nanny sat, as if ABOVE the fray. She was a STAID one, stoic and almost grim. What would have brought a smile to a normal person’s face, say the sight of little bums bopping about with a tangling CRAWL underfoot, brought little or no reaction to her face. To be FRANK, she would never have taken this position if she had known what it entailed. The children’s guardian, who they called with affection GRAMP, had been so desperate for help, that he overrode his concerns. It was not so much her dour demeanor. But really her lack of imagination that saddened everyone. She relied on rules and structure, even going so far as to keep a GRAPH for each part of the children’s lives. She tracked and charted behaviors, school work, and social activities. Years later, Mary Jane, who had been one of the tots crawling by Nanny’s feet, finally understood why she had had panic attacks when graphs were first introduced in school. Having had her entire young life stretched and mapped across countless x and y axes, the mere sight of the gridded paper was enough to have her break out into a cold sweat.

Georg’ann

Today the Soul Writer’s took on the ACORN, 
as a FRAME for exploring. Seasonal
GRAVY of a metaphor, almost cliché. 
Resisting a tired attempt at profundity
about mighty oaks, I wrote of squirrels. 
Comic relief from a day of too much thought.
Images of body bags, children crying, rubble and despair. 

Let me lose myself in the sound of squirrels
galloping across the roof. 
Jumping onto the bird feeder, frenzied
not even stopping for a nibble. 
Down the pole, over the GRASS, up a tree, jump to the fence,
gracefully scamper along, thrusting upward,
a huge leap across the alley,
catching the wire on the other side,
brief run before another leap onto a low branch,
then disappearing except for rustling leaves. 

Watching the acrobatics I am convinced 
squirrel watching was the impetus for parkour.
Someone carefully plotting angles on a GRAPH before jettisoning their own bodies in rapid motion. 
On, off, over, against, up, down, spin, and thrust
as if there were no laws of motion, no limits. 

And now I wonder was it a spider that inspired rock climbing?
Moving the desire to pursue, to scale heights 
into a belief of possibility, tethered
by nothing more than a single line
and the steady persistence of delicate limbs grasping.

Heather