It felt like a USUAL morning. My feet hit the FLOOR with a satisfying thud, pushing away the last remnants of sleep. Down the steps I go, all the WHILE dreaming of hot coffee, my BELLY rumbling, and fantasies of dark purple blackberry JELLY to slather on a slice or two of hot buttered toast. And then I realized, this moment, a gray chilly November morning, is not to be treated as run of the mill. What if I open myself up to the delight of the mundane, the joy to be found in the ordinary. May I savor the simple fact of being alive, safe in the moment, sheltered and secure.

Georg’ann

I’d already done the day’s writing
earlier, about a man going
through a TRIAL with his
abdominal BULGE, the joys of a donut.
Humorous fluff to start Saturday.

Then the mail came
carrying a charming gift
from my darling daughter.
A Bonne Maman Advent calendar!

Every day a new door to open,
sweet delights waiting in tiny jars
lidded with red and white checks.
Sweet jam or JELLY for toast,
to enjoy on a warm scone, perhaps
that dollop of flavor on cheese
or in a sauce.

I marvel at her thinking of me,
tangibly connecting when
I’ve been missing her so keenly.
The gesture new, unexpected.

How tender my heart at receiving
this particular seasonal magic.
So much contained and ineffable
in a plain brown box traveling
from Philadelphia to Bloomington.

Heather

I trace the line of your profile: my finger gently moves down the bridge of your nose, across your mustache, now startlingly white, down your soft lips, a little dry, scoops along your chin. All is as familiar to me as my own. I think of edges, bumps of land along a COAST.

Across the bed lies an old PLAID blanket, remnant of some part of the past. Now, we are so blended, I can’t remember who or where or when.
I think of the PEARL cuff links that sit, unused, on the dresser. I start to stir, aware of this tangled up, messy life: bodies and bedclothes, yes – but also, so much past, cluttering the present, shaping the future

Georg’ann

Friend takes PAUSE to pet
her warm PEACH colored pooch,
PEARL, while snow cascades.

Heather

After the CRASH, we SPENT a lot of time trying to straighten her, well, for lack of a better word, I guess I will call it a SPINE. You see, this piece of art had been in the family forever. Privately, we all hated it. But no one wanted to tell Great Aunt Tessie. I called it a “her,” but this piece of art was such a hot mess that it was only our best guess. Humanoid? Rabbitoid? Insectoid? Heck, I don’t know. It had been in the back of Jimmy’s little Fiat when he was t-boned by that big Chevy. Big American crushes little Italian – we milked that scenario for far too long. Anyway, because the car got smashed, the sculpture was bent pretty badly. At least Jimmy hadn’t been in the car when it happened. We blamed the valet who allowed that drunken guest who owned the big Chevy to park in the dark. We had to hide all this from Great Aunt Tessie, which was hard given the incident made the society page and was talked about for months.

Georg’ann

There’s a comfort in going
to the STORE. Familiar
and also new each time.
Something like SALVE,
these aisles filled as they are.
My daughter wrote a college entrance
essay about our Kroger
citing similar sentiments.
More depth here for each
of us than I have the energy
to write now for you.

Its time to SWIPE up
and clear the day away.
Do a little SPINE stretching,
take a hot shower. Off to bed
where the cat and a new book wait.

Heather

Prayer for the Earth

In fields of WHEAT, tiny
Birds flutter and PERCH
Wondrous beings fill
Every NICHE, from soil to sky
Love to our home, sacred
Space, deserving of our best
Love our home and
Love each other

Georg’ann

GREAT blue heron stands
in POISE. Large body held up
by thin legs that rise
out of dark water steeped
with brown and gold leaves
blown into this quiet NICHE.
Bright green moss on the shore.
Three contrasting crescents.
Wide lake glistens in the distance.

Heather

What is this fabric THING?
I pull it out: I WRING! I FLING!
And, at last, BEING no closer
To the answer than when I started,
I announce with sweet relief:
“this is GOING into the rag bag!”

Georg’ann

There was that time when
my cousin touched
the electric fence.
Not a bad SHOCK, given
it was designed to dissuade cows
not little girls. Always pushing,
enticed by challenge, danger.

She climbed to the roof,
scaled the tv antenna even higher,
walked across the icy pond.
It didn’t give way until the edge,
only fell in thigh deep.
Grandma thought a BOARD
on the butt would deter
future adventures. Though belts
and switches hadn’t yet crushed
her spirit, in fact probably
propelled her reckless impulses.

Often we ran wild in the woods,
scampering over fallen trees,
swinging on grape vines,
splashing in the creek.
Making huts in the brambles.
In recall, there is light through
tree branches haloing her
copper hair with shining gold.

Nestled in the beech leaves
a mother bear, her TOTEM come
to protect this wild, restless one.
Some might dispute my recall
as FOLLY. But she was there.
Heidi’s spirit animal. Maternal
love missing outside these woods.

Or was it mine? After all she was
my vision. That has never occurred
to me, though the desire to guard
children has been GOING since
those early days when
generational rage sent us running
toward nature or hiding in closets.

Heather

Did you hear the FABLE that told of how a FLASH of light in the sky brought a thin sliver of hope to those who saw it? It was a beautiful yet FRAIL thing, more precious for its fleeting nature.

Georg’ann

Aging cat now GAUNT,
finds soft PLACE. Her tattered fur
coat covers FRAIL bones.

Heather

LOATH to rise, yet eyes spy
Sunlit TABLE, spreads a warm glow
My TALLY of joy begins

Georg’ann

His back to the audience, alert
still as a statue until
this GUIDE for our evening
raises his hand so precisely,
sweeping up our anticipation, then
a SHARP swipe down of the BATON
brings forth a swell of sound.
Magic of that wand reaches
into me, as if the orchestra
were within, music pressing out.
Taut heartstrings respond, playing
vigorously. My body arching,
swirling legato then quickly
twitches of pulsing staccato.
Yet these bodily movements
almost imperceptible, internal.
No observer would sense. Outwardly
only subtle appreciative motion
noted perhaps by seat mates so staid.
Without keeping TALLY, note
by layered note hours pass.
Adrenaline fueled exhaustion
as thunderous clapping denotes
the close. Body comes to stillness
within the shuffle around me.
Patrons gather their belongings
to make rapid departures. Why?

Heather

Nervously, I PLEAT my napkin. Damp from my DRINK, it starts to shred. It’s not the only thing that is damp: I can feel sweat beading on my brow. The stranger next to me shifts away, trying to be subtle, but still, I notice. I almost comment on how it’s warm in this overcrowded room, just to reassure him that I am not sick, you know? Like, I don’t have a VIRUS or anything. But really, all of my attention, the attention of everyone at the table is on the little man with the green VISOR. The bets are being laid, and I am strung tight as cat gut on a fiddle. I try to look cool as I push my chips to the center of the table, saying, “I am all in.”

Georg’ann

Listening to post dinner clean up.
Dishes clanging, water rushing
into metal, metal striking metal
as silverware jostle in their bath.

From the easy chair, I imagine
her sturdy hands entering
a billowy cloud of bubbles,
reaching into the unseen to find

slender utensils. Remnants
of dinner released from sharp
fork tines and knife POINT.
WIDOW cleans with VIGOR.

His fishing VISOR still rests
on the entryway table, as if
a year hadn’t passed since
he sat here, from where I write.

Heather

It’s only 5pm, but still, wanting a long soak in the tub, Phyllis runs the water until there’s enough to FLOAT in. This should help ABATE the last vestiges of the day’s stress. Immersed in the warm bath, her eyes grow heavy. Soon, she is dreaming, an Alice in Wonderland like scene, or maybe more C.S. Lewis, strolling in the woods, chatting with a friendly SATYR who daintily prances beside her, his TAWNY fur in lovely curls around his face. Before she can sink deeper into the half-waking dream (or into the tub), her phone startles her back to her very inelegant bathroom, with its TACKY decor and even tackier-to-the-touch floor. Drying off her hands, she looks at the caller ID: “Restricted.” Ugh. Is this the doctor, the collection agency, or her mother calling from her office? Wishing she hadn’t brought the dang thing with her into the room, she sighs, heaves herself out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, she waits for the voicemail notification, thinking there’s no point in rushing to get bad news.

Georg’ann

Winter sun moves SOUTH
To TRACK warmth, cat also moves
Sleeps in TACKY chair

Heather

I TREAD with quick steps, scoot past the CLASS, hoping they will not hear me. Though, honestly, there is probably not much chance of that; this place echoes like the cavernous VILLA that it is. So here’s hoping they are not alarmed as I practice lifting my UVULA and singing strongly and clearly. The auditions for the school musical cannot come soon enough!

Georg’ann

Thirst

Tongue thick, lips tight
with a buzzing sort of tingle
that begs for a DRINK.
With HASTE they seek wet.
Water, COCOA, GUAVA juice.
Liquid passes over, down
the throat, a rollercoaster drop.
UVULA delights in the gush.

Heather

Today

Time for the CHIME
Hop out of bed
Feeling PRIMO
Ready to PRIMP
Ready to roll
But like the song says
“I know I’m fakin’ it
I’m not really makin’ it”

Georg’ann

Tonight my PULSE stays steady
a function of PAINT and poetry.
For a brief spell, I forget the PRICK
that popped the collective bubble.
Listen to the rain fall, along with
PRIOR stories being retold, ears
PRIVY to murmurs of mistrust.
Each morning still making time
to PRIMP. Rituals of preparation.
Something comforting about
about the brush, the lipstick.
Still me, as I’ve always been. Ready.

Heather

Morning tensions, back strung
tight as a bowstring. Braced,
watchful: uncertainties abound

Georg’ann

Blustery morning walk, swirls
of anticipation. Wondering
what changes be blownin’
in these winds. Rooted,
ready for a long winter ahead.

Heather

It’s November, Baby

STONE wet with rain, a WINDY
day and leaves swirl. But in
the VINYL shop, it’s hot and groovy.

Georg’ann

Live unspoken TRUCE
hold anger, SPOIL everything
Spin VINYL, release.

Heather

Today’s card, DRAWN from a recently shuffled deck, a single STAFF. Variously called Wands or Staves, this Ace sprouts delicate green leaves. A single hand lays CLAIM to the prize, calling to mind a monument in a PLAZA. Lit by the BLAZE of an unseen sun, this card signifies new beginnings. You have what you need to forge ahead. Control what you can: your focus and your community. Success is certain.

Georg’ann

Dribbling down the COURT
Shooting BLIND, BLAME sun
Basket?! Oooooh.
That was a BLAZE!

Heather

Lingering at the breakfast table, remnants of the meal scattered about: JUICE glasses, coffee mugs, open jars of jam, butter-smeared knives and plates. I ALLOW myself time to just sit, echoes of early morning conversation in my head. There will be time enough to get out the BROOM, run the dishwasher, and change up the table linens. For now, I will SPOON up a last bit of yogurt and SNOOP on the doves and finches at the feeder. Let me stretch this moment out, subjective experience of the elasticity of time.

Georg’ann

Pulling out bits of this,
tad of that, half a bunch there.
Saving portions from WASTE.
Pleasure to create from parts,
no measurements or plan.
Jazz chef, master of improvisation
won’t let anything SPOIL.

Heaps a healthy SCOOP,
warm kaleidoscope of flavors,
onto your plate. No discordant
notes here. Impossible
to recreate. One performance
only. No recipe to replicate.
Martha and SNOOP couldn’t
play it any better. Glad you came.

Heather

QUERY: if I POACH pears, can I SWISH in a splash of almond extract, add a piece of star anise and some peppercorns? Or will those spices drown out the delicate pears and make the almond extract superfluous?? I am on my SIXTH attempt at this. Keep your fingers crossed and tune in next week for another episode of “Cooking to please yourself”!

Georg’ann

Lately we’ve moved away
from British CRIME shows.
Undoubtedly not a FINAL PIVOT.
Respite from layers of despair.
These new characters are DITZY,
laughter comes easily.
Yes, we’ll go to the SIXTH season
with our new friends.

Heather

It would be a SHAME to not capture this moment: get out your camera, set up your EASEL, grab some paper and crayons! Fall is on the cusp of sliding into winter.

Georg’ann

So vibrant the leaves, likely gone
by week’s end. Do they BOAST
to one another about their ability
to put on a show, stay the course.
Is that the sound we hear rustling
In the wind? Leaf bravado?
Last cry before their end comes.

If possible to anthropomorphize
the leaves in this uncharacteristic
manner, what else might ARISE
that allows my heart to fully open.
Sending loving kindness toward
bombastic, dangerous “others”.
Tenderly falling across the divide.

Tonight on my EASEL the canvas
is blank. Inviting contemplation.
Swirling thoughts, scattered.
Notions of an enemy remain
as angry incredulity veils ideals.

Clinging to familiar patterns.
Leaves whisper sweet goodbyes.

Heather

You know I EXIST, not by the TRAIL I leave, but by glimpses in the garden. Many people find my appearance to be a TONIC. Before I come into my full glory, I am wrapped in more than a TUNIC but less than armor. I am often invisible to you at that stage.
What am I?

Georg’ann

Creativity taking root
is the POINT at which
I imagine fanciful designs,
embroider them to hide
a STAIN on my TUNIC.

Heather

I SNEAK in early, wanting a minute to think about how to ask for a FAVOR. Then I CATCH your eye as I reach for the JAMMY dodgers. I look a fright: BAGGY clothes, BADLY combed hair. If it were another century, you’d call me BAWDY. But today, in the staff break room, you recognize me. “Would you like some tea with those?” I freeze. Like a dog caught in the act of stealing food off the table. This was not how I wanted to meet my new supervisor.

Georg’ann

Vivid oranges and rich reds
CLOAK stone grey branches.
With each step a slip or crunch
on those that have already let go.
Thoughts of death ARISE calmly.
Don’t DAUNT sense of security.
Cycles of life and all that, here
convergence, senses so alive
in these BAWDY woods.

Heather

Like an insect in AMBER
Holding PLANK pose, still and steady
Images of SATIN and iron inspire
Release down, each toe as separate as
if on a SANDY shore
Soar and swoop –
Softness and strength together

Georg’ann

DRIVE toward soft SOUND,
moon’s strong pull lapping against
SANDY beach. Tide pools.

Heather

Rustling of PAPER – just outside my DREAM?
Awareness threatens to BREAK the sleepy spell
FREAK trick of light – or is it real —
Wings flying around the room —
What creature is this that threatens to
WREAK havoc??
Eyes fully open, ah!
All is explained: a bat!!

Georg’ann

Halloween season has come
that one night that is now
at least a month of events.
Going from PLACE to place
gathering, harvests of sugar.
Shelling out a lot of BREAD
to transform self, to decorate.
What TREAT to pick,
Which FREAK to become.
Will dissatisfied ghouls
WREAK their revenge.

Heather

Ever SINCE they had come out on the WRONG side of each other, they had been a bit cautious in tackling house projects. The tension had been over what color to paint the den. Silly thing, really, to hold onto, but that’s the way it goes sometimes. She had just slapped some paint on the wall, having laid down the law about who was making decisions this time around. No compromising their way to a pale neutral color: this time, it would be what she wanted. But the supposedly gray color was really too BROWN. “Who makes up these paint names anyway,” she muttered with a FROWN. He passed by the room at that very moment. Sensing that he should stay out of it, but unable to do so completely, he settled for saying casually, “kinda dark, isn’t it?” No reply from her, and he wisely stepped away. Later, he experienced a private relief when she chose a medium green, something just a tad darker than the lichen that grew on the side of a tree in the yard. He’d have to drop that comparison into their dinner conversation. It would make a very good impression.

Georg’ann

Each time she opened her closet
she was greeted with music,
NOISE made from twinkling metals
softly clanging against
the door, and themselves.
Lines of necklaces used
to ADORN her collarbone.
Yesterday with barely a touch
a new melody played
as beads plopped onto hardwood.
No tears, only a slight FROWN.
These were pieces easy
to pick up, to string again.

Heather

Stand at the stove and SCALD the milk
FRESH bottle of vanilla, brown bottle
Stands out against MOSSY green walls
A BOSSY voice from the radio urges “Buy now”
I am mesmerized by the stream of white liquid
I clasp the mug, eager to raise to my lips the
Fragrant steaming hot milk

Georg’ann

Taking a different ROUTE.
SOLID determination to see
from a different perspective.
Or perhaps an invitation
to see again what familiarity
has made invisible.

Within the beech tree roots
many MOSSY rocks, interplays
of bright green and grey.
High in the branches a bird
seems annoyed by something,
squawking in a BOSSY tone.

Further along a quarter sized geode
glitters in the dark,
hard path. Coming home
your sleeping face so peaceful.

Heather

ASTER purples against
A FLOOD of orange and red
Whst a GOOFY delight:
witches among the pumpkins!

Georg’ann

Karaoke Night

BOUND together for better
or WORSE. Teams assigned.
Oh poor you, my VOCAL
skills not meant to sing.
Yet here we are. Singing
together with full voice,
embracing the GOOFY.
Laughter never off key.
Audience joins the chorus.
Peals of lyrical notes fill the room.

Heather

Spell to bring good energy

Before you retire for bed, place a PLATE outside the door. Upon this dish, lay 3 sprigs of sage, crossed with 2 sprigs of rosemary. Remove all TOUGH bits while leaving the sprigs whole. Sprinkle salted water over all while you say with increasing volume into the night (but do not SHOUT, for that will offend the spirits!) “Harmony within, harmony without!” Softly close the door. Do this for three nights in a row, and you will feel a distinct improvement in your state of mind.
Blessed be.

Georg’ann

Fear arrived, an unwanted GUEST
here to SCOUT viability
of permanent residency.
Taking up space in every room.
Rather than SHOUT, I left.
Slipped out the backdoor,
heading to the woods for a hike.
Returned to a house unoccupied.

Heather

Make no NOISE
SNOOP by the edges
Rattle a SPOON
Mouse in the kitchen!

Georg’ann

Spontaneous hour to SHARE.
SPOIL one another with time,
conversation, and tea cookies.
Pour chai out an earthenware SPOUT,
stir in sugar with a silver SPOON.

Heather

Hearing the LATCH to the door click, Em instinctively looked for a place to COWER. She really wasn’t supposed to be here. Everyone else was at the party, and she was supposed to be too. She definitely was not supposed to be snooping in this part of the house. But Em had always been one to flaunt the rules. Her Dad used to tease her, saying with a hint of pride, “That’s my girl, she slices and DICES her way, full steam ahead, that one.” He wasn’t around anymore. But she wasn’t sure that her adoring father would understand what she was doing, snooping in Aunt Bea’s bedroom. Ears straining, Em tried to listen to see if someone had, in fact, come in, or maybe her ears were playing tricks. Still uncertain, she knew she had to find that necklace and find it quickly. It was promised to her, and things were just desperate enough that she was willing to take this risk. Praying that she wouldn’t get into a DICEY situation, Em sat in front of the vanity. It’s not theft she thought, no matter what others said, her anger rising, that necklace is mine.

Georg’ann

Onslaught of texts rubbed
against the GRAIN. Judgements
hurled, then denied, blame put
elsewhere, deceitful deflection.
It was QUITE an assault.
Nothing here to be FIXED.
No amount of diplomacy working.
DICEY navigations with illness.
That one fractured relative
spilling bile from the cracks.

Heather

Delicate like a TULIP petal
We try to hold on
Gentle lather, RINSE
A fragile piece of FIBER
Remnants of family lore

Georg’ann

There’s a TRACE of perfume
lingering in the tone on tone weave
of my new second hand sweater

even after washing. Imaging
the previous wearer. Unlikely
to have been a LONER. At surface

the acquisition and application
of this scent suggests sociability,
in stature, if not temperament.

What WIDER portion of society
did she inhabit? I see art galleries,
lunches at The Uptown. Unfazed

by any community VIPER. Wearing
monied assurance, understated.
FIBER infused with her signature.

Heather

It’s TOUGH to be the center of attention. In SPITE of all the therapy and introspection, I continue to feel a bit STIFF when people want to give me something. I can get a big case of “no, don’t go to any trouble.” Well, really, if I am quite honest, it’s a bit of a dilemma: yes, please make a happy fuss, and no, please don’t make any kind of fuss. This year, I took a chance and said, actually, now that you mention it, it would be rather nice… (STILL, a bit of a wobble around that request) I feel intense gratitude for the whole: the generosity and the love. (It would be a bit of a STINK to do anything else. And I am not and do not want to be that way) So, I will graciously accept and enjoy my STINT as the birthday queen.

Georg’ann

He’d GROWN fond of SANDY, which he hadn’t expected. In fact he’d initially resisted her. Quickly she won him over. She was a steady companion and so good natured. Great with the neighborhood kids, it was not unusual to find her lying on the front lawn with children draped over her in one way or another.

Their daily walks became an important ritual in an otherwise chaotic life. Sandy knew the route and it was soothing to follow her lead. She had all her favorite places to SNIFF, delighting in new discoveries. Though her warm poops did STINK, it was small price to pay for all she gave in return. It was his first STINT as a dog owner. He wasn’t sure about them all, but knew he’d been transformed into a man who loved at least this one very much.

Heather

It is taking a risk, staking a claim
to a room in one’s home, a home that is shared with others. It can require one to EXERT self to create a PLACE, perhaps even disturbing others. The process can expose intensely personal desires and aesthetics. And for it to be successful, in truth, no one else can do it. It must be done by one’s self (though others can support). Done with intention and the whole self, it can make one feel fully ALIVE. I am looking forward to this process: creating a place of safety and nurtrance, a potential SALVE to my spirit. I welcome this as a spur to inward reflection and outward expression in equal measure. But it must be mine alone – it will not do to HALVE the space, to compromise in any way. I am ready.

Georg’ann

Gift from the Kumano Kodo

what PLACE opens
this artful, tiny box,
an intricate puzzle
inlaid wood patterns
view from every ANGLE
delicate sliding, catches
slide elsewhere, try again
HALVE the distance, release
she is caressed into opening
Shinto charm inside, protection

Heather

Today, Writing

Good grief, I do not love these
words: MOWER, CHIRP, BRASS:
what a pain in the ass.
Sorry, not wishing to be rude,
just being FRANK, not crude!
Okay let’s try again…
Alas, this list, it does not end
GRAND, GRANT – what am I to do?
I am lost, uninspired
and now, mostly tired.

Georg’ann

OUNCE by ounce, flavors
of kindness FIGHT against
ANGST. We GRANT one another
grace. Dissolving discord
the way salt becomes clear
in water. Ionic polarity.

Heather

A Halloween tale

Maybe we could BLANK out for just a moment?
Then TROOP together under a COVER and
COWER at the scary sounds.
We sort of wish for a CODER to decipher the scene.
We are worried that our only weapon is an apple CORER
Perhaps we need to all jump up and shout “boo!!”

Georg’ann

Hearty SAUCE for the cold night.
Always these recipes say quick.
Only if prepped, like for tv cooks.
So much chopping.
My ailing BICEP begins to ache.
CELLO Sonata No. 5 playing.
I kept the beat, knife on bamboo.
Then vigorous stirring to the news
Letting it simmer, I resumed
reading a story of a secret
group called The COMET Callers.
Full of CODED messages sent
by elaborate means, leading
to sky watching gatherings,
pretext to ensure protection
of the COVEN meetings
where generations of women
teach their daughters magic.
Finally my own potion prepared.
Flavors melded in rich burgundy.
I never got to the store for pears.
No need of a CORER tonight.

Heather

Let’s PARTY until the FAINT light of day –
We will run the GAMUT:
Laugh with the wind, carefree as children;
Cry our eyes out as old friends can do;
Dip into the cherished past;
Shore up for an uncertain future;
And sigh wistfully when the celebration is done.

Georg’ann

HOUSE of glass and wood.
View only RURAL landscapes.
Wildness GAMUT. Home.

Heather

Dear one, do you often THINK of the moment we met? It was quite the SCENE, wasn’t it? Waiting at the airport, your PLANE was delayed, mine had just arrived. Dodging around some unruly children, I almost fell. And then you caught me, startling me with your gorgeous eyes, firm grip, and gracious smile. I really was smitten from the start. Do you remember, darling? And how you said, “Careful there, you don’t want to end up PRONE on this floor!” And then we laughed because that was such a funny word to use. Nobody says that, except you.

Georg’ann

Clear VOICE found, moves me.
Please don’t STORE away, too PRONE
to being silenced.

Heather