A younger self wanted to EXIST on a GRAND scale: live large, express loudly, love big, etc, etc. But age does FUNNY things to those ambitions, softening them and bringing quieter achievements into focus. I understand now that no one can FLUNK me out of my own life, a liberating realization.

Georg’ann

Yesterday I read
that the HEART
contains memories
when moved from one body
to another. It lives
uninterrupted.

Scientists have also FOUND
butterflies carry memories
from their days as caterpillars.

It doesn’t matter if we FLUNK
science. Or ace every exam.
Miracles are miracles.

Heather

The big day arrives
Getting ready —
excited and PROUD
TEASE the hair
into an updo
WHITE stockings
and dress
Elegant and LITHE
you will see me
On the dance floor

Georg’ann

Muscle has gone to WASTE
Skin droops in crepey folds.
What was once LITHE
is now simply thin.

Heather

EAGER to eat, the chickens crowd ROUND. Watching, we laugh to the point of a SNORT or two. Indeed their ridiculous behavior makes it hard to FROWN. We point at the BROWN hen, who has a topknot that looks like a CROWN. We decide then and there that she wins, and we anoint her “chicken of the day.” Thus begins the new household tradition, instead of “happy hour,” we are going to have “hen hour,” guaranteed to cheer anyone up within five minutes.

Georg’ann

Princess PEACH Velvet Star
left a trail of raw oatmeal
on early morning adventures.
Her mother would SCOLD
to no avail. CROWN askew
and satin gown tattered,
this rosy cheeked royalty
was a messy explorer
perfectly ensconced
the realm of her own making.

Heather

Little boy in a TIGER costume, sitting on the porch
Let me CHEAT time and revisit that sweetness
And pretend that it was just yesterday
Push away the STALE and heavy weight of worry
Allow me to STAVE off all the uncertainty of the future
I will STAKE out a space and hold
That precious sweet innocence forever

Georg’ann

Theater in the Park

Grassy knoll dotted
with blankets and lawn chairs.
Faces glistening with SWEAT
as eyes STARE at the STAGE.
Languid hands fan hot air,
not much relief.
Concession stand popcorn
though fresh, tastes STALE.
Children’s laughter blends
with well rehearsed lines
of tragedy. No one minds.
It’s evening, it’s summertime
It’s community come together.
Nothing at STAKE, all is ease.

Heather

At the fancy restaurant,
observed at a TABLE nearby,
a doleful STARE
and a plaintive voice:
“But Mama, I thought
you said we were having
skates for dinner”
Childhood disappointment, not
a roller SKATE in sight!
Alas, the menu promised
“Les ailes de raie” —
No cake in the desired shape
No funny cut up veggies
Just a flat fish, sautéed in
butter, dressed with lemon
I fear that young person
may never recover!

Georg’ann

As a TOKEN of their early days,
they got a cheap STEAK dinner.
Afterwards they drove
into the darkness, to the pond.
Held hands, wobbling
as they willed their bodies
to remember skills necessary
to SKATE on rough ice.

Heather

Soft as a PETAL
I STOLE a glance
Just a little one
Through the FILET
Curtain – I gasp at
The beauty of
The world

Georg’ann

Maternal Grandmother

Vida was a force,
a Hollywood style vixen
well into her eighties.
Thin, yet never FRAIL.
Oft dressed in high heels
and a wide brimmed hat.
Sleek lined clothes, twinkling
green eyes, creamy soft skin.
Unlined without
fillers, toxins, or tucks.
She liked blackjack
and the racetrack.
Enjoyed many a FLING,
kept a champagne bucket
next to her kingsize bed.
The FIELD was well played.
Always in charge, she was
never a FILET to be taken
by hungry beasts.

Heather

Contemplating my next read, I find that I CRAVE a good epic tale. Perhaps one about a TRIBE that rises up to throw off imperialist forces, that have come to destroy the people’s way of life and put them to work, keeping the empire of the colonizers going. I want it to be engrossing, with an engaging set of leaders from each side, no one a simple BRUTE. Complex moral decisions and robust character development all over the place. Layered with reflections on clashes of culture and the meaning of life. Preferably stretched over several volumes. Ah, a satisfying read, like an excellent meal to be savored and remembered forever!

Georg’ann

Living LARGE is to enjoy
the way a black cat looks on a fluffy
rose colored blanket.
Stretched like in a hammock
between cushions along with
the back of the couch.

PRIDE not so much
in our possessions
Or accomplishments.
Choosing pleasures that
won’t make us BROKE.
Relieved to have shelter
from BRUTE forces.

Heather

The PITCH goes high
The next goes low
From the BENCH
Watches each COACH
The players LURCH and
Tumble over each other
And land in the GULCH
All covered in MULCH
We cheer, we laugh
We jump for joy
Late summer fun at the ballgame

Georg’ann

I was STUCK today.
A dead battery left me
in a LURCH. As always
you came. Steady hero.
Dirt under your nails,
bits of MULCH in your hair.
Me, a daisy in distress,
feels the warm moisture
at my roots, tended
like any one of the plants
in your garden.

Heather

BOUND by a commitment and a DRIVE to make the world better – let’s not keep each other stuck with the hand we are DEALT, trapped and isolated – without DELAY, let’s work to minimize suffering and make space for joy!

Georg’ann

After the party Marian was so exhausted she didn’t bother with her nightly rituals. No face washing, teeth brushing, giving the cat a snack, sending a goodnight text to her mother, or even bothering to remove her shoes.

When she woke in the morning her MOUTH tasted foul. She quickly set forth with vigorously brushing her teeth. Heading to the kitchen, she plotted the day ahead while eating toast. Staring out the window, she wondered what might ARISE.

Suddenly she realized she was late, there was no time for a shower. After changing quickly into CLEAN clothes, Marian rushed out the door to put the PEDAL to the metal, as the saying goes.

And it was there, in the alley, that she encountered a major DELAY.

       -----/-----

Reader, you can choose your own adventure here. What happened in the alley?

Heather

I am speaking quietly, not wanting to make any NOISE. I am practicing something that has given me GREAT pleasure in the past: memorizing a poem. I feel a little conspicuous, sitting on the patio at 8:30 am, reciting lines out loud. Hence, my quiet voice. The poem doesn’t have a distinctive METER or rhyme, yet I am finding it easy to memorize. It makes me feel hopeful, the way poetry often does: that someone has arranged these words in a pleasing visual pattern and with such lovely meaning.

Georg’ann

Long before the Twilight series,
you had romantic yearnings
for COUNT Dracula.
Desire to STARE into dark eyes,
ready to tilt the pale neck,
prepared for the piercing bite
and then the soft sucking.
Willing to give life blood,
at least a LITER, to the lover.
All wordless fantasy.
This dreamy scene silent.
No dramatic METER necessary.

Heather

WHILE I wonder ALOUD
If my LACKY is the same as my lackey
And if so, is he LANKY,
Gangly or spare?

Georg’ann

Moment comes through a PRISM
A single ray burst into color.
BOUND to notice the array
of emotions bounding
toward a solid surface.
LEAVE their imprint there.
Ephemeral, and yet indelible.
LANKY girl remembers. Leaps.

Heather

A FLASH of light through the window; I check to see if it’s lightening. And I remember how, in years past, we would have to SPEND time being steady and calm – STOIC, even – in order to be a calm presence for our dog, Sandy who was terrified of any loud STORM. Poor girl, she really hated the thunder! I miss her sometimes, she was a sweet girl.

Georg’ann

Tiny specks of mud on the floor
became BOUND up with fear.

Collapse at the futility of trying.
Became ragdoll once again.

To the other we each became
message bearers, bringing

our mothers into the kitchen.
Arduous to remain WHOLE.

Became pixilated while waiting
for a STORM to clear the air.

Sun streamed in the Kitchen
window. Became rainbows.

Heather

From a tangle of weeds, I hear a chittering. Some little critters SCOLD me for being too close to their nest. Not to worry, little ones, I have just come to snip a bit from the CHIVE plant. No need to BRACE for an attack, indeed I shall slip away as gently as I can.

Georg’ann

Turning SOUTH on Rogers
thwarted by construction
Turning East on 2nd
thwarted by construction
South again,
and again thwarted.
So this pattern goes as I jog
my way to my destination.
A CRIME of poor planning
every year as the students return.
How to approach reroute.
BRACE for every bump and block?
Embrace the challenge like a game?
Each turn is a choice.

Heather

Preschool recital

Time to DANCE
At the CLANG
of the bell
Jump in ANTIC
but not frantic
Show us your
best moves
Be like an ACORN
start small and
Stretch tall!

Georg’ann

Jenny wants to do a flash mob,
unexpectedly ERUPT into dance
in public. Carefully choreographed
yet made to look spontaneous.
As I listen to the RADIO
each song is a possibility.
Each space I pass sized up
as a potential venue.
The MANOR gardens
along the reflecting pool
leading to the ACORN gazebo
is movie scene perfection.
This is a gift I hope to give,
the coordination of players and pieces
to mark off her bucket list fantasy.

Heather

ASTER blooms and yellowing leaves –
The garden begins to DRESS for autumn
All the plans and things I SWORE to do
Now is the time to tot up the SCORE and see
Plans to collect the little bits, the SPORE and the seed
Before we put the garden to bed
To rest softly under a mulch blanket
Appearing to SNORE away the winter months
Yet much is happening just out of sight
As the summer bounties SHORE up and nurture for what is to come
My garden, ever a lesson in patience and planning

Georg’ann

Weary of the compulsion
some have to SPOUT off.

Senseless sounds filling space.
Captive to a litany
of unbridled words
is a sure way to SPOIL the day.

Better to walk the SHORE
listening to the sea
as her thoughts roll in and out.
Sometimes whispers.
Or passionate, filled with fury,
spewing fiercely. Yet always
her conversation hard to leave.

Heather

Good GRIEF, how did I end up BEING the one to muck out the stalls again? No one else around to hear me, not even an answering NEIGH from the occupant of the first of many stalls. And such are my memories of horse camp, an experience that did not live up to my expectations.

Georg’ann

At a gallop, thoughts CLEAR.
Two are joined, POISE in motion.
NEIGH-like laughs escape.

Heather

ALIVE, yes, but that’s a low bar. I would like to be more than just that, but these days I feel like I have to keep pushing away despair and loneliness. Like being handed a STICK when I am longing for flowers. I try not to SKIMP, to deny myself. But getting up every morning and making a series of decisions about the day, well, it just feels hard. Wrestling with the urge to escape, imagining a little SKIFF where I could row away, maybe with you, maybe with a small band of companions. A gently flowing stream, a wide calm lake — little glimmers of life and hope in the far distant impossible to imagine future.

Georg’ann

Walking on the tracks,
bellies full of coconut cream pie.
Autumn sky crisp and CLEAR.
We were goofy teens, thinking
we were so punk
with our spiked green hair,
ripped hose and big boots,
safety pins in our ears.
Jumping into empty train cars
listening to the echos
SHOUT after shout. Laughing
free, oh so free.
A SNIFF of the air foretells
a light SKIFF of snow coming.
When we get home,
my aunt’s fury there to greet.
Sheepishly we admit to eating
all the coconut cream pie.

Heather

A head of STEAM
A SPIKE in temper
A SURGE of energy
A SHOVE to the side
No matter what you call it
In line for a hot buttery SCONE
At the local bakery is
A fight to the finish!
I’ll have a chocolate chip one, please!

Georg’ann

BUILD a sandcastle,
squeal as the waves rush in.
This playing with impermanence
no less sacred than the Tibetan Monks
with their intricate sand mandalas
thrown to the wind
or poured into bodies
of water, sinking out of view.

SPEAK to the SHORE birds
chase them, squeal again.
Delighting in what can’t be caught.
Enticing them to come close
with bits of SCONE.
Reward for their teaching,
though you didn’t know
it was a lesson.

Heather

With a SCRAP of gauze in hand, she knew QUICK thinking was required. No time to play the CYNIC and bemoan the lack of resources that led to an asphalt parking lot for a playground. There were worse things, and urban schools sometimes must make do. Besides, teachers everywhere have had to play MEDIC; it’s just part of the job.

Georg’ann

Over the course of the walk
mist gave way to sunlight,
shifting moods upon WATER.

Your VOICE periodically silenced
to capture a new marvel
like the heron in flight
or the twisted snake spine.

At points the steep path was DICEY.
Slippery wet rocks covered
in mud or moss.
Roots and ruts covered with leaves.

What of an accident,
the need for a MEDIC?
Invasive thoughts creep into
peaceful places.

Heather

I have been watching the birds fly in and out of the vines for a couple of weeks. It takes me a few days to figure out what is happening. I finally discover the nest, far from the BRINK of the arbor, deep inside the DENSE foliage. I once again creep up to peek under the canopy of LANCE-shaped leaves. I see tiny little heads popping up from a small nest. These baby birds, so tiny and a fraction of an OUNCE in weight, have been invisible up to now. I scurry away, so that I do not deter the parents from their endless task of feeding their babies. I could not be happier about this addition to our backyard!

Georg’ann

At the memorial for his GREAT-
grandmother,
a little boy read a piece he wrote.
He spoke with POISE about how
she reminded him of Mary in the Bible
and always took him for Happy Meals.
The WHOLE eulogy delivered
while balancing on one foot.
Another family member sent
a letter to be read.
Much of it was self lauding fantasy.
Its OUNCE of truth contained
in memories Happy Meals.

Heather

A SURGE of wit with
A dash of SPUNK
Makes a girl SAUCY
Not mousey!

Georg’ann

The picnic was a disaster!
A strong wind made
our savory lunch SANDY. Grit in each bite. We pulled out the pan of lemon squares expecting some redemption, and were dashed at the first cut. Underbaked, they were a SAUCY mess.

Heather

The NOISE is so loud, that I can barely concentrate on the CHART I am working on. The sound is odd, almost WACKY in its strident, unearthly quality. Imagine my surprise when it turns out that the new neighbors own a MACAW!

Georg’ann

Our neighborhood basketball COURT
is an often empty SPACE
more for solo hoop shooting
than boisterous competition.
Surrounded by LILAC bushes
it’s the perfect retreat
for meditative motion.

An occasional encounter
with that celebrity poet
or the man who comes
with his MACAW on a perch.
This is a place fitting to begin,
at 57, learning the skills
my father wanted me to know
when I visited that summer.
Both of us crestfallen
at my inadequacy.

Heather

I sit, feeling my SPINE curved uncomfortably into the couch. My physical discomfort makes concrete the emotional space I am in. An email, a text, something sent, something received and a negative reaction is triggered. I spiral out and dissociate just enough. From a distance, I watch my mood plummet, spiraling, as if down a DRAIN, into a pool of yuck. Paradoxically, I float above my body and at the same time an inertia settles in, so heavy that it feels like it will never leave. Any attempt to move feels almost MANIC by comparison, so weighted down am I by this emotional weight, like a giant ANVIL, so heavy it distorts me to hold it. Then like magic, this process – these very words you are reading – create a shift, reuniting my spirit and my body. Each sentence both lifts a layer off and integrates me. I can now move and release the weight. Time to get on with the day.

Georg’ann

Resentments HOVER
each trying to be CIVIL
hold back their ANVIL

Heather

Every morning, when I wake up, I take a moment to take advantage of the QUIET. I check in with myself, trying to sense what is bubbling up, what wants to EXUDE. Sometimes it is totally internal. Sometimes it is more external. No matter what, these moments have an impact. A chance to set up how things will ENSUE and flow through the day.

Georg’ann

Putting up a FRONT
she chose to DANCE, ensuring
no fight would ENSUE.

Heather

By the SWEAT of my brow indeed
The tiny tasks of late summer
One, trim the late-blooming Virgin’s BOWER
Two, tie up the cucumber vine
Three, dream of ice-filled, cold drinks
Oh August, soon the temperatures will LOWER

And we will miss your heat,
Your lion’s roar of humidity
But for now, I wilt and wipe,
Heading for the shade

Georg’ann

Reality might not match
the IMAGE in your fantasy.
I prefer to SLEEP,
not much of a LOVER,
more of a LONER.
LOWER your expectations.
Find alternate amusements,
I’m off to dreamland.

Heather

At first SIGHT, Elsa seemed ill-suited to SPEAK for the team. She was a rookie, and still figuring out how to conduct herself. Furthermore, in a tense conversation that morning, Elsa and her colleagues had discussed the importance of today’s meeting with Lord Aldridge. A lot was riding on this meeting. After much back and forth, it was decided that Elsa should be the spokeswoman. His Lordship was a bit of a loose cannon, especially where women were concerned, and they really needed him to stay focused. The goal was, naturally, to make sure that the funding of the expedition was not going to evaporate unexpectedly. A firm hand was needed, someone unafraid and not easily ruffled. Elsa came, shall we say from a less genteel background than the rest of the group. She was unafraid of the SEAMY side of life. Indeed, she had laughed at the idea that Lord Aldridge could unsettle her with his erratic nature, not to speak of his tendency to introduce dubious topics of conversation. “Ha, let him try and distract me,” she had said. “I have seen things and heard even more on a SCALE that he will be hard-pressed to top.” And with that, the Ladies Archeological Society of Bristol felt prepared to meet with their new patron.

Georg’ann

BELOW the window LEDGE
there’s a wooden chair, of sorts.
Backless with curved delicate arms.
Sometimes they seem ALIVE,
like wings in motion.
The cane seat is covered
with faded Turkish pillow.
It’s a favorite cat perch.

From the sapphire blue couch
I watch her watch the garden.
Today the Japanese MAPLE
is especially active
with cardinals and chickadees.

Perhaps they’d like STALE bread.
It isn’t right for French toast.
Not interested in making croutons or crumbs.

The SCALE of today is balanced.
Reminder to move gingerly,
speak truth kindly and quietly.

Heather

Feelings ERUPT up and out: there are times when it is necessary, a MEANS of clearing out the cobwebs and old debris. The things that have been held out of a reflex and CHAFE, like a stone in a shoe or ill-fitting clothes. The tears that fall serve to wash away those old modes of emotions. After, there is not a FLAKE or dust mote in sight, clean and clear, with plenty of space to explore new ways of being and interacting.

Georg’ann

A brief VISIT to BREAK
from this capacious solitude.
She sits across from me
I hear her voice
yet the words are lost
as I am lost

in the elegance of her ANKLE.
Lost in the tiny FLAKE of pastry
that clings to her moving lips.
Lost in the folds of fabric
draping across her various angles,

noting how the tiny birds
in the pattern disappear into crevices,
then fly into view again as she moves.
How like a bird I am today,
darting in and out.

Heather

TREAD on a BLANK square
Get the CHALK out
Sidewalk transformed!

Georg’ann

CRAWL over the cat,
she who lays CLAIM to the bed.
CHALK it up to love.

Heather

Once upon a time, long ago, WHERE the trees grew tall and the people were content, and the King and Queen were fair and just, there was a Princess who wanted to EVADE marriage. You see she was very happy being single. She told her parents, the aforementioned just and fair King and Queen, that she wanted to SEIZE life by the horns and ride along the FENCE, wild and free, for as long as she could. (The Princess loved to try out metaphors – there was no fence, as despite the tall trees, this Kingdom was urban). The King and Queen, being fair and just as well as loving their daughter very much, agreed to notify the YENTE to cancel the search for a spouse. But they wanted something in return. (For being fair and just as rulers and parents, this was an opportunity to teach about commitments and energy exchanges among people) They required the Princess to choose a trade and not just ride free, but also to learn. The Princess thought long and hard, deciding finally that what she wanted most to learn was how to cook. This would be not only fun, but also useful, teaching many skills, including generosity. For what cook doesn’t love to share the results of their labor? And so, after much study and dedication mixed with just the right amount of metaphorical horn seizing, the Princess catered a gigantic feast featuring her signature PENNE all’arrabbiata. The fair and just King and Queen were very proud of her. And the people were even more content to have such a skilled chef for a Princess. And they all lived happily ever after.
Oh, what about the marriage you ask? Well, that’s a story for a different day.

Georg’ann

Friends had EXTRA. Called,
invited me to their HOUSE
for a simple summer meal
of gazpacho, tabouli, crackers
and cheese, a bit of fruit salad.

Contentment came in slices
each time the KNIFE cut
through the earthy hard cheese.
Taste softening the soup’s acidity.
All elements complimentary.
Balance in taste, texture, color.

Leftover pesto PENNE was offered,
should I want a bite.
No inclination to add
another element, I declined.

In a further bit of spontaneity
we played a new board game.
One that was strategic,
and like the meal, aesthetic
in design with a sumptuous feel.

Heather

Plan the garden, create the context
Weeds and chaos are without BLAME
We invest for now, so LATER blossoms

Ebb and flow,
RELAY and relate
Containing the FERAL
As well as the tamed

Georg’ann

Nothing so PLAIN as this
realization, LATER is now.
Has not in fact come EARLY.
Yet came with excessive speed
one slow moment at a time.
Now like a FERAL feline, caged.
Waiting for the spring to release,
a new season to begin.

Heather

Step with WHOLE foot
TREAD carefully
Plants and bugs REIGN
Supreme in the summer forest
Birds call, sun shines
Like a distant EMBER
In the July humidity
SURER foot dodges the nettle
SUPER power avoids the bee

Georg’ann

Watching a sailboat navigate the SOUND,
I imagine a SUAVE scene aboard.
There is a mystique to sailing,
that comes from too many
media images.
SUPER sleek, leisure class
fantasies depicted.
Windswept but never disheveled.
It’s the same with convertibles.
My reality is always wind whipped with watering eyes
that no pair of sunglasses
or chic scarf can prevent.

Heather

The STORM had put out the campfire. The absence of SMOKE spoke to how long the fire had been out. “Hungry and tired, that’s what we are. What do you say we grab everything, throw it in the trunk and drive to town? I can throw on that flowered SMOCK you like so much and you can take me out for some pizza.” And with that, we ended our camping adventure.

Georg’ann

Time is out of REACH, high
there on the classroom wall.
Can only watch the little hands
of the CLOCK go slowly round.

Art class now, little hands
make big messes. Reaching.
Inevitable they will KNOCK
over the paint cups. Eyes wide.

Teacher takes STOCK. Sighs.
Reassures with gentle eyes.
Begins to move swiftly. Adept.
SMOCK remains unscathed.

Heather

SPEND time with a child and
Find them QUITE without GUILE,
Pouring JUICE, all the while
Chatting to beat the band

Georg’ann

Oh my, SALTY girl.
Save an OUNCE of sauce for me.
Let’s JUICE this dance floor!

Heather

As I take an evening walk along the BEACH, I am dismayed at the line of TRASH on the sand. There are few shells and many are broken, as if a petulant demon had come through and attempted to SMASH them all. Next I see what at first look like little tire tracks, but I soon realize that they are the tracks made by baby turtles, newly hatched and scrambling to the sea. Looking up, I see a crowd gathered. And as I get closer I realize that these are local volunteers who are protecting the turtle hatchlings. I stand by them, the volunteers and spectators, cheering on the little turtles. AWASH with emotions at the fragility of this life, as well as the hopefulness of the moment.

Georg’ann

CHASE around the park.
By the slide, FLASH impish grin,
face AWASH with glee.

Heather

I ponder the words. Close my eyes and see what images emerge. The first image that pops up is followed by a caption, a single sentence that uses all the words. It sounds like an odd, nonsensical story: “The JUMBO COVER made a ROCKY path to the TORCH on the PORCH.” Uncertain I will be able to unsee /undo that, I am grateful that I only have to write it, not illustrate it.

Georg’ann

I like to sit on the PORCH and watch the neighborhood pass by. It is the kind of slow sitting that feels hopeful. Open to this varied place I inhabit, taking time for connection to it all. So much life passes by while I sit still in rapt attention, welcoming.

Heather