Falling snow, icy paths, wind that can knock you over — odd to feel more ALIVE when faced with a sense of danger. Standing on the rim again and again, I cannot stop looking at the AMBER cliffs, the purples and reds further down, a wall of ASTER-colored layers. I want to remember, hold close this intense landscape, like an AFTER-image accessible to me anytime I close my eyes.

Georg’ann

Our home is etched with the life lived within.
Many markings, none that mar.
Here I sit, sipping coffee in the CHAIR
the cat has clawed to shreds.
She on my lap purring, contentment.
Cottage warmth, no desire for a MANOR.
Flowers in every season, even now
when winter bulbs delight inside.
Soon the outside blooms begin
with crocus, violets, peonies, iris, lilies,
bursts through summer, until Zinnias
carry us to the purple ASTER of fall.
Imperfections inside and out,
yet nothing to ALTER.
In this scratched up chair,
gorgeous fabric destroyed,
is still much beauty AFTER all.

Heather