I could lay CLAIM to a robust complaint, you know
I could, justifiably, SCOLD you for a month of Sundays
You have been like a LEECH: too close, too draining, and kinda icky
LUCKY for you (and me) I believe in second chances
Let’s have the difficult talk
Let’s dig deep and find the source
Let’s commit to continuing to love

Georg’ann

Winded old man blows into a FLUTE
sputters of wind down the hole, like a panting dog
no graceful gliding of breath
over the gap resonating with clear notes.
Not easy on the ears; it’s not music for them
This music is a duet played with my heart strings,
always melodious no matter the mood.

The GHOUL circling our home, vulture like, has gone
seeking other prey, death no longer knocking at our door.
We’ve been given a reprieve, an unexpected spring.

Butterflies and hummingbirds dance in the CURLY vines,
fragrant with abundant delicate white sweetness.
As if our garden knows to ready now for a wedding feast.
Lilies, roses, and gladiolus have withered.
LUCKY, we have no need for funeral flowers.

Heather