Lady Brenda had only a VAGUE sense, as she STOLE onto the Stephens’ estate, how she would settle the SCORE with her rival. Under cover of darkness, anything seemed possible. But as the first whiff of SMOKE hit her, she froze. She could only think, “no, no, no…” even as she broke into a run. Whatever she wished on that wretched Beatrice, this was not it. This was way too serious. Casting aside how it would look, Lady Brenda pulled out her cell phone, desperate to call for help. Maybe she could get away before help arrived. Even as she frantically spoke to the dispatcher (“Fire! Stephens’ estate! Hurry!”), she knew she had to try and see if anyone was in the house. Swearing to herself, Lady Brenda rushed forward, uncertainty and adrenaline swirling through her in equal measure.

Georg’ann

Summer was a TRIAL
time to explore light
and shadow. Hear
the SOUND of quiet.
Take in the SCOPE
of living small
which is paradoxically
living large. Less required
to sate the senses, expand
the heart, she becomes
so filled with noticing.
The scent of wood
SMOKE is infinite poetry.

Heather