I doodle idly in the margins, reading over what I WROTE. Considering a word choice, a nuance here, now there. Stopping to focus on the feel of my pen, I TWIRL it between my fingers. I go through my thoughts, like shuffling through STRAW on the barn floor, watching dust motes and chaff float and dance in the sunlight.

Georg’ann

My daily alarm is the movement of a cat
from behind my legs,
where she has slept uncovered
a paw pats repeatedly
at the blankets, a request for entry
In a dreamy state I lift them and in she goes.
I ADORE the warm softness as she circles and settles
into the curve of my torso
her motor running loudly.
Eventually she pokes her head out,
jumps down with a thump
then I reach for the phone to begin
the day’s word play
Previous attempts line up on a GRAPH
each one a marker of connections
this game has set in motion
Like STRAW spun into gold

Heather