The wood STOVE sits idle. Soon will be the days when we will CRASH on the couch, with a cup of tea and a book. The rains of fall will come and convert the backyard to a MARSH-like wetness, reversing the damage of a HARSH, dry summer. For now, I lounge in a garden chair on the patio, savoring the last days of summer.

Georg’ann

Praying mantis poised
between a post and a pillar
Three legs dangling in air,
one barely touching its support.
Suspended GRACE.
This is how I’d like to be
in prayer, trusting
that my lightest touch is enough
to hold me.

Waiting for an inclination to move.
No RAPID action required.
Sunlight limns MARSH grasses.
HARSH realities paused at midday

Heather