When uncertain of my PLACE, I tend not to make a SOUND – sitting quietly I THINK; I observe. Only once I feel safe and secure do I take the giant risk and do the THING that makes me tremble ever so slightly: I speak feeling as if I am leaping into empty air.

Georg’ann

Driving toward the snow STORM.
On the Pennsylvania Turnpike, entering Philadelphia,
hands grip the wheel, body alert.

Yet I am aware of the snow covered pine boughs
heavy, leaning toward the road.
Long icicle clusters descending from the bouldered hill.

Entering the city, narrow streets lined with white cars,
children walk with sleds,
two teens carry snow shovels.
A parent teaching their child about salt
on stoop steps for safety.

Walking up to the door, anticipating the calling of “Mama”
in the distinct cadence of my daughter’s voice
as she wraps her arms around me in a strong, lingering embrace.

Like Louis Armstrong, I THINK to myself,
What a Wonderful World.
There is not a THING amiss this afternoon.

Heather