PRIDE is a difficult thing for me to claim. When I contemplate it, I feel as self-conscious as if I had had a tube of something SPURT all over my clothes, and that this has happened right before I have to stand up and do something very public. A bizarre thing, that imagining feeling proud engenders a feeling that seems very much the opposite: self-consciousness or, perhaps, even shame. Examining this quirk of mine is an interesting experience. I feel a bit like I have struck a match and thrown a tiny SPARK of light into a dark corner of my psyche. It’s a dusty and obscure corner. Perhaps it is time to do a little spring cleaning.

Georg’ann

Too many wars

TRUCE called, then broken.
Ash falls, needed FAIRY dust.
SPARK magic, not rage.

Heather