forest walk :: kristine o’connell george

I’m practicing my
         I-belong-here
         no-twig-snap
         no-leaf-rustle
         no-branch-crack
         see-all, know-all
         float-like-fog
         like-smoke
         pine-needle-soft
         forest walk.
No one will know I’m coming.
No one will know when I’m gone.

toasting marshmallows :: kristine o’connell george

I am a careful marshmallow toaster,
a patient marshmallow roaster,
turning my stick oh-so-slowly,
taking my time, checking often.
This is art—
a time of serious reflection
as my pillowed confection
slowly reaches golden perfection.

My brother
           grabs ‘em with grubby hands
                     shoves ‘em on the stick
                               burns ‘em to a crisp
                                         cools ‘em off
                                                   flicks soot
                                                             eats quick.

I’m still turning my stick.
He’s already eaten six.