AGAIN, we shuffle
Along, pain will ERODE our
COVER, self laid bare

Georg’ann

Just before bed the sky darkened
in the south, visible from my bed.
Swirls of grey and poufs of white.
Thick silence hanging in humid air,
conjuring an electrical force.

The STORM continued this morning.
Intermittently. Allowing respite.
Exciting flashes of bright lines
against the dark sky ahead
as I drove up the highway
for a different electrical force.

Climbing onto the table, positioning
myself under, between strange panels.
Legs cradled into my personal mold.
It keeps things lined up, steady.
Assures trajectory of the electrical force.

After the team checks my marks,
Aaron lays a warm COVER
across my body, I fold my hands
over my heart. This position
reminiscent of a funeral pose.
I will become an electrical force

someday. Likely well into the future.
May there be this much peace,
and tender tendings then.
Though a much better soundtrack.
Today fills me with radiant light beams.
Cellular savior is an electrical force.

Heather

Before I could fix it, I knocked the glass of WATER exactly where I had dropped the cup of FLOUR. The mix of the two turned into a MINOR disaster. Moral of the story: one goof plus a PRIOR goof equals more than the sum of its parts.

Georg’ann

EXTRA sensitive, everything amplified
Moment to moment variations,
what has been steady is now RISKY.
Quiet the CHOIR, sound no alarm.
Patiently wait, noting sensations.
Find your Drishti, maintain soft focus.
A MINOR shift alters
every PRIOR expectation.

Heather

Do I DROWN my sorrows? Take up some new online TREND? Seek a new BRAND of jeans? Look for more comfy shoes? GRIND my teeth in despair? Surely there are better ways to cope with this crappy year, a year that has made me want to curl up in a ball, pull the covers up over my head, and have you wake me when it is all over. I will ponder and let you know what I come up with.

Georg’ann

FRESH despite the heat.
Hair in a BRAID, energized.
Not the usual GRIND.

Heather

Do not fear a GUEST at the door –
Greet ALOUD and warmly
Be not ashamed of your humble home –
Be PROUD of yourself and share generously
Hospitality is, indeed, its own reward

Georg’ann

Pretty, no scent PEACH
PRIOR disappointment huge.
PROUD now, not seduced

Heather

I could CLAIM it was a LAPSE in judgment
A mistake in the TALLY, if you are keeping score
My FAULT, I humbly offer
All the while, I wonder —
How did this become the easiest path,
The fast exit to nowhere?
I watch you cling to this new misstep lovingly
Like the answer to your prayers
You carefully put it in a VAULT with all the others
Deluded, you think that I do not know
That I cannot see what is happening —
But I do.

Georg’ann

Oh for a bowl
of PLAIN vanilla ice cream.
A LARGE scoop, drizzled
with homemade chocolate sauce.

Not hot fudge, too thick.
Maybe even trying to steal
the spotlight, not a mingler.
With a few SALTY nuts
sprinkled atop. Just a few.
No need to overdo any element.

If only the freezer VAULT contained the treasures needed.

Heather

I watched you CHASE your dreams. You were so close – but that turned into only a moment, painfully BRIEF. Now, I see you step back into the role of a MOVER, someone who can make things happen. I like this side of you – and longing to see you go from being on the sidelines to the center of your own life. It doesn’t serve you to always be an EDGER, creeping along, shyly. It’s a risk, I know. I long to hear you speak your truth– loss can set up such feelings of vulnerability. Don’t let that DETER you much longer, my sweet. Your dreams can live again. Take the risk. And please know, I will always be there for you: having caught you once, I can catch you again.

Georg’ann

Bits of food in DRAIN.
DEFER cleaning, hope you will.
Won’t DETER dinner.

Heather

I BLINK, sweat pours down as steam rises. The hot STONE-lined SAUNA feels like torture. It’s a converted ancient hut, turned into a featured attraction at this resort. Weirdly enough, I am aware of its history, where centuries ago, criminals SWUNG from trees nearby, and the hut supposedly housed the local wise man. Such odd juxtapositions add to my feeling uneasy about this whole thing. I am starting to regret having accepted Anne’s invitation for this weekend.

Georg’ann

This kid has HEART
Marvel at her sturdy BUILD
Physically in the literal sense, muscles
More significantly in the metaphysical
A being so astute, tender and strong
With SPUNK she SWUNG directly
into all of our hearts

Heather

All CLEAR, I think, as I respond to the FAINT beginnings of PANGS of hunger. I have been putting off my break to clean a few more cages, but I know I need to take care of myself. I also know that I need to get by the animals without setting off a round of barking. It just tugs at my heart so much – don’t think I will ever get used to it. I sneak past the dogs, one a sad, MANGY case. Ugh. So much need in this place. And truth be told, it’s not just the animals– lots of needy people here, too. But I stay focused; the needs aren’t going anywhere. My heart is set on the MANGO sorbet left in the break room. And success! I got past the dogs and no one else has eaten the cold, tangy treat. Choosing the most comfortable plastic chair, I pull out my newest book of MANGA, and settle in for a few minutes of well-deserved solitude and refreshment. I love my job at the animal shelter, but sometimes, a bit of solo time away from the noise and demands is needed.

Georg’ann

AMONG all the things to read, Ry most enjoys MANGA. I had hoped her comic go to read would be Calvin and Hobbes.

Heather

GIVEN some free time, we decided to SPEND it, frivolously, in the local history museum. The aerial photo of our town from 1955 elicited cries of “NEATO” and “cool,” the surroundings spinning us back in time. We lingered at the FENCE around the log cabin, wondering how it got here. Next, our attention was caught by a sheet over a display case. On top of the sheet was a sign about the need to update how archaeological finds are described to honor and respect the indigenous population, long gone from this place. HENCE, a discussion of artifacts and ownership, brutal histories of conquerors filled out lunch time. A fruitful and interesting meander in our day.

Georg’ann

Beware how you SHARE
Friendship hangs on fragile HINGE
HENCE slow unfurling.

Heather

I grew up outside of the city, in a new development with a number of empty lots and wooded areas. I remember how we would SCOUT out the woods, filling our time with imaginary friends and adventures. The woods felt enormous to us, though in reality small. Once, we saw a dark THING, lying in the dirt.
As we got closer we could see it was a bird, limp and cold. With a disregard for germs, maggots, and the other parts of DEATH, I picked up the little body. I was fascinated by the chance to be close to a wild creature, to feel its softness, to touch its wings, stroke its head. It was an object of wonder – as marvelous to me as if a star had fallen out of the ETHER. I still remember that gift, and all the sensations from the way my grubby hands felt to the coldness of the dead bird.

Georg’ann

That year my aunt had another GUEST visiting, so we stayed at the Santa Cruz youth hostel. Which was a little complex of small white cottages around a central garden not far from the ocean. She DROVE us there after dinner. We were surprised when we entered our room to find a basket of fruit and a small cluster of heavily scented gardenias in a bowl shaped vase. Auntie had prearranged for this welcome, feeling bad she couldn’t host us fully.
You, my tired little one, slipped on a big t-shirt of your dad’s, it hung below your knees. On the front a cartoonish white rabbit in surgery scrubs with the words, The ETHER Bunny, printed below.

Heather

Stepping into the church,
I hear powerful chords that boom.
They EVOKE momentous things like
Space,
Planets in ORBIT,
Even God.
The sounds of the ORGAN
Offer no comfort today.
Rather a challenge:
What is my faith?
What do I believe?

Georg’ann

This random assortment of words
here I am preparing a Christmas feast
Meat dredged in salted FLOUR,
browned in butter and olive oil.
Put in a deep pan to ROAST.
Hours later the fat poured
over a pasty mix to become
Yorkshire Pudding, the pride
of that house’s BARON.
ORGAN heavy carols played on
the portable radio, wedged
between the cookbooks.

This random assortment of words
here I am recoiling with revulsion,
lips pursed and head pulled in
and away as I type what came.
Meat and the man, putrid.

Heather

A loaf of BREAD in the shape of a TROUT: that’s how we celebrate St Andrew’s feast day. If you are a lady of the village, then you wear a best FROCK, decorated with pins made from fishing hooks and hats with netting, like the nets of the fishermen. Some even decorate with tiny starfish and shells. In recent times, we have had an addition to the festivities – one which some find very WRONG and even perhaps a GROSS vulgarity. Playing on the notion of the apostle being a fisher of men, it has become traditional to have our eligible ladies play at catching men. So now at the bakeries, you can also buy GROOM-shaped cookies.

Georg’ann

Over an EXTRA serving of sour cherry crumble- we always love it when it’s Georgie’s turn to BRING dessert to the GROUP gatherings- a charming story was told about Tim and Maeve’s wedding. As the ring bearer walked up the aisle he made periodic pauses to menacingly GROWL at guests along the way.

Apparently the earnest child, with more associations to animals than wedding party roles, had thought he was the ring bear and was acting the part as best he could, though this was not clear until the reception.

The full meaning of the odd behavior became clear just as the GROOM was taking a sip of champagne. His laugh was accompanied by a fountain of tiny bubbles.

Heather

Combine HONEY and butter
Stir until it goes SLACK
Take a Spoonful
To counter a STARK outlook on life

Georg’ann

Sad HOUSE without her.
No pitter patter on STAIR.
STARK contrast, silence.

Heather

With loving WEARY hands
We BRAID hair on little heads
Hustle to our seats, all tiredness gone
The BRASH bold band strikes a chord
Let the magic begin
With twirls and leaps, little bodies fly
Recital done, little heads bob and bow
Proud families shout BRAVO!!

Georg’ann

Mental BLOCK cracking
This is BOUND to be hard now.
Much love, care. BRAVO!

Heather

Coming back from the market, I make SPACE on the counter. I am aware of the desire – no, the need to nourish my friends and family, to share this bounty, and express my love. I have amassed quite the array of bitter and sour, markers of the season when plants push forth their defenses against those that would gobble them up. The potential to transform these HARSH raw ingredients into TASTY cooked morsels expresses perfectly this moment – when I want to take the bitterness of this life, the pain around me and turn it into something sweet and special. My skill, my craft – let it be a gift to those I love and to myself. May the noxious become agreeable, the biting become gentle. Humming to myself, I fill the BASIN with water, ready to clean, sort, and chop.

Georg’ann

Oil on your new blouse or jumpsuit? No problem!
STAIN Devils really works! Dab on, absorb with clean cloth, rinse in BASIN of warm water. Gone!!

(Readers, this is true! Small yellow bottle is an elixir you want to have available)

Heather

He declined to FLIRT with the chatty BUNCH over by the bar. He was rethinking his willingness to CHASE or be chased by CHAOS. Perhaps, just this once, the only siren song he would heed would be the one coming from his cozy chair. A nice cup of tea and a novel? Ooh, now that’s seductive enough for tonight. And so, he paid his tab and headed home.

Georg’ann

Meditation STARE
Soft gaze to QUASH distraction.
CHAOS quelled, peace comes.

Heather

There once was a writer who feared
His CLEAR POINT had totally disappeared.
His thinking was MUDDY,
His syntax was GUMMY,
And his spelling was awfully weird.

Georg’ann

Visiting a friend, she laid CLAIM to the larger portion of dessert, and talked of being a MOVER and a shaker in the tiny town we inhabit together. I laughed to myself, knowing that her behavior could be attributed to her having eaten a GUMMY, left from her recently deceased spouse’s medicinal supply.

Heather

It took some PLUCK for Polly Adams to practice her SQUAT. She was not really a squatting kind of person – more likely to say the word than to do it (as in “that don’t mean diddly-squat”). But she was bound and determined to USHER in a new way of life, and if that meant lowering her bottom to be nearer the floor, then so be it. No point in being FUSSY about the whole thing. Her granddaughter was worried that she was following a BOGUS regimen, peddled by a dubious YouTube channel. But Polly assured her that this was “no thigh master and certainly more effective than my mother’s vibrating belt” which only confused the granddaughter who had never heard of Suzanne Somers and who had certainly never seen a magazine ad for the “pleasant and passive way to lose weight.” Polly really wanted to see what it would feel like to have thighs that were powerful or, at least, might be MINUS a few jiggly bits. It made her feel hopeful, and at her age, that was worth it, right?

Georg’ann

Each PHASE a brand new rollercoaster.
Impossible to become STUCK.
First the terrifying anticipation,
that clicking climb up and up and up
as you wonder what compelled you
to buy the ticket.

But wait, you didn’t choose this ride.
And somehow that makes it easier
to yield. USING all your breath
full screams and laughter
erupt simultaneously, as you plunge
into the descent at breakneck pace.

Going forward, then stop. What next?
Long pause, suddenly sucked backward.
One more time, all of it over again
MINUS the initial ascent.
Propulsion to the end, ride after ride.
Same pattern, varying degrees.

Heather

These Days

UNDER it all.
Not my usual.
I am a MOVER, a dancer.
Instead, I tread WATER.
SHEER volume and weight stop me.
I long to ride the waves
To find my inner downhill SKIER
Missing the ease, the swoosh

Georg’ann

Entering the lodge, Margaret noticed the faint scent of cocoa and pine before her attention was drawn to the CHALK outline on the glistening wood floor just to the side of the registration desk. A side door to the outside was just beyond the marking, as was a long hallway adjacent to the door, off this main foyer.

It had been determined that the murder weapon was a KNIFE, though one hadn’t been located at the scene. There were fresh tracks in the snow outside the side door and a few drops of blood further confirming the direction of escape.

The working assumption was that the murderer had SKIED away quickly. Given that any SKIER would be wearing a mask and gloves that could be as unique or as nondescript as desired, identifying details might prove difficult to determine.

Heather

In the crowded room
On the floor and in the corner
A VIOLA leans against a wall
Beautiful wood and a little dusty
Like an aging wallflower at the gala
Waiting for someone to notice
Someone who will REVEL in the music
Someone who can unlock the potential
Someone to step forward and see what is hidden
On the floor, below eye LEVEL
Beneath the mirror with the BEVEL edge

Georg’ann

Clay was in my hands, something
solid to hold, mine to SHAPE.

House is QUIET, the kind before
a storm, and a storm is coming.

Old cat has found her way under
the COVER, we’re warm companions.

Illness playing field is not LEVEL.
Heart holds sorrow, is grateful.

Awareness meets a BEVEL,
refracts into prismatic emotion.

Heather

We walk around the central pillar of the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta. The SOUND is weird and echoes a bit, as we circle the acrylic tank. It is overwhelming to think about how much water is contained within. Children and adults alike are mesmerized by the GIANT shark, the huge manta ray. Each a TITAN of the sea, magnificent and awesome.

Georg’ann

SHHH, fireflies ABOUT
Ageless delight. TASTE night air
TITAN held captive

Heather

Resolve not to snipe
And to be ABOVE a GRIPE
So I look for a GUIDE,
As to how we might GLIDE:
Smooth sailing is what we all like!

Georg’ann

Cards on Friday Night

So much sleight of hand
yet no one really a CHEAT.
Quick laughter, fast friends.
Letting go POISE, gobbling
cake and 4 flavors of ice cream.
Test DRIVE new relationships,
GLIDE into gear effortlessly.

Heather

Silent – no NOISE – WRIST
Gently turns, quiet SWISH of
Door: sleeping baby

Georg’ann

SPEAK slow, raw honey
no need to STING, little bee
Words like wings. Soft SWISH.

Heather

In REPLY, I would request that you do the BRAVE thing, Senator. Meet with your constituents. ENTER the local DINER and have some face-to-face conversations with the real, everyday people you represent. You will find that we are NICER and smarter than you think we are, and we deserve to be heard

Georg’ann

CREAM colored sofa.
Friend picks new DECOR for home.
Wants NICER things now

Heather

I ADORE the feeling when I get just the RIGHT level of CRISP edge to a roasted potato. Or when I take a dish or a cocktail to the BRINK – almost becoming BRINY, hovering in the tasty realm of salty and sweet.

Georg’ann

We’re still away.
Long, oh so long, the day.
Wordle we did play,
WordleWriting got a delay.

Don’t mean to be whiny.
working hard, free time tiny.
Sky all blue and sunshiny.
dinner elements perfectly BRINY.

Heather

I WAVER – in my head,
It’s a distortion in
A MINOR key, bordering
On cacophony – I try
To find the FLOOR
Beneath me – yet I
Fail to fall
My feet playful and sure
Landing on a strong major chord
My piano TUTOR would be proud

Georg’ann

Inviting them in, each explores her own ocean.
Later guiding them gently back to SHORE.
Salt water droplets flow from eyes,
dissolving sharp edges.
Rectangles become ROUND.
Boxes we’ve inhabited open,
revealing the mandalas within.
No JUROR needed to determine truth.
The TUTOR trusts each
to discover their own. Waits.
Curious to learn what lives within.

Heather

The IMAGE emerges
Like a SWIFT soaring
With a PINCH of luck
A soupçon of wit

Georg’ann

SPARE moment, be still
Listen to rain, receive POINT
Each drop, PINCH of cloud.

Heather

Taking a bite of what she thought was a sweet roll, Mary quickly put her hand to her mouth, anxious to COVER the CLASH between her expectations and reality. Not cinnamon, but the pungent taste of CUMIN coated her tongue, a most startling experience.

Georg’ann

Outside at the Pub

It’s not my favorite place,
I don’t like WHEAT lagers
to DRINK, or BISON to eat.
But under blue skies, in warm sun
the LUPIN lined patio is perfect.
CUMIN roasted chickpeas roll
off my fork. Brown birds peck
at them. We are amused.

Heather