I spy a little nest started in the strawberry bed. Some small creature, I assume, though not likely a MOUSE. I gently pull the dried grass away, laid carefully in a circle. It’s an action I take with some mixed feelings – who am I to be a THORN in the side of some small animal, forcing it to search for a new home? Does it really need to be TABOO to have a little nest under the sage, next to the strawberries? And then I think of those red berries, and imagine the little thieves. Ah, yes my little friend, go build your nest elsewhere: those berries are mine!

Georg’ann

Even as I try to EQUIP my heart
with all the promise of Easter season, 
the feeling is more suited to Good Friday. 
Slipping back into darkness, 
hard to keep a vigilant WATCH for light. 
Precarious, oh so tender. Everything. 
Dare not seek a TAROT reading. 
TABOO for this mood. 

Only trust divination read 
in woodland wildflowers. 
Dutchman’s breeches, trillium, violets,
celandine poppies are the light.
Suspended between crucifixion 
and resurrection, faith is carried
on the wings of Red Admiral butterflies.

Heather