Standing in the field of my emotions, I am tempted to GRAZE at the edges, find small bite-sized bits to examine and integrate. I feel wary (and weary) of efforts to WEAVE the big feelings into a coherent whole. Won’t any effort to do so lead me on an endless CHASE for the impossible – turning me into an enlightened whole? That seems like more than I can do in this lifetime. That seems like something for my betters – you know, saints and geniuses and bodhisattvas, all things I am decidedly not. I am willing to dig in here and there, take my SPADE to isolated parts of this wild field. Maybe I can clear one single space and make a pretty spot in which to rest, sheltered amid a SPATE of my own emotions.

Georg’ann

Eyes GLIDE across the page.
Not reading so much
as a moving STARE.
SKATE over other’s thoughts
not engaging what I open.
Each morning brings a SPATE
of opinions, prose, poetry.

Some days it’s enough
to enjoy the chorus
of birdsong without striving
to identify an individual species.

Heather