Recipe

The two aging kittens grow rougher in their play,
Snap snagging thin sharp claws
On upholstered chairs,
Whizzing calamitous,
Up, down and at all impossible angles
Across the room’s vast terrain.
They launch, skid, tumble and they fly,
Throwing arms and eyes wide,
Fluttering papers,
Toppling stuff,
Skittering across the floor.

My two boys grow more contentious in their play,
Each accusing each of unfair and stupid things.
They shout and mock and pick away
What’s left of childhood’s blossoms,
Scattering them foolishly in aimless paths.

I watch cats and boys with equal awe and confusion,
Wondering what magic recipe stirs us all about,
A mix of chaos and serendipity,
Bolting us headlong into the future
From this too brief interlude of,
Dare I call it,
Bliss?


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

Measure And Weigh

We are a people
Who measure and weigh,
Measure and weigh,
While the moment itself
Slips away.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

No Umbrella

He did not see the hummingbird,

Its iridescent scales

Flashing small rainbows in the noonday sun.

He did hot hear the electric buzz

Of its pulsing wings,

Hovering above a honeysuckle flower,

Sipping nectar,

Dusting pollen.

He did not feel the rising humidity

Giving promise to possible showers.

No seeing.

No hearing.

No umbrella.

~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved

I Am Dead Now

On the evening of the day before I died
I knew I was doing everything for the last time.

Not too much melancholy,
Not too much regret,
Not too much anticipation,
Just getting ready for a trip.

Consider these words,
Weigh them well,
Ask yourself how I knew.

Someday, you’ll know too.


~ Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved