“The LODGE is the perfect place to relax, go SLACK,
cheerfully STALL and procrastinate, and indulge in SMALL delights.” I read out loud from the brochure. “Well, what do you think? Are you persuaded? Here, look at the pictures.” I hand you the brochure, eagerly scanning your face for any indication that you are willing to go. “I know it is not your usual choice, being more of a serious traveler, but I think that it could be nice to get away and rest.” I speak in a casual, off-handed way, certain that will get me what I want more than an urgent plea will.

Georg’ann

Sifting through years of ribbon and bows,
rolls, folds, and pieces of printed paper.
Out falls a silver SCRAP, a tag addressed to me from you.
Childlike printing in a SHADE of green,
the effect not unlike a celery STALK.
This SMALL treasurer waiting
in the folds of recycle and reuse
or pristine paper waiting it’s turn
to be cut, folded, taped, ripped, gathered
and put back in the wrapping box,
perhaps with some small scrap attached
destined to be a serendipitous gift
received in some future season of giving.

Heather