Sitting and pondering today’s words, I am struck how sometimes the words have personalities. And so: “TRIAL” seems a trickster, tempting one to read it as trail. “LOUSE” feels judgemental – don’t be one and don’t mess up, though it also conjures up images of English class and the poem by Robert Burns. And then there is “LEGGY” with its identity crisis: is it a svelte model or a plant in need of tending? And so today, they end up like mismatched guests at a party, circling one another and deciding that they really don’t have much in common.

Georg’ann

UNDER a woven piece of cloth,
too pretty to toss, is a treasure
box of junk, recycled like its cover.
It’s easier for my imagination
to create out of WASTE held
together with EPOXY, material
not too precious for experiments
with structure and form,
perfectionism takes a rest.
Hands begin exploring, soon
a woman with copper wire hair
takes shape, her bead BELLY full,
she’s long and LEGGY, ready
for her pipe cleaner limbs to dance.

Heather