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Poetry: Lisa J. Cihlar

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Loving a turtle is not difficult. Your love will not be returned, but you will most likely not be mauled either unless you get too close to the head of a snapper. Then you might lose a finger. But you are smarter than that. A bear on the other hand may be fluffy, but mauling is a major disadvantage if you put your love eggs in that basket. Of course you must consider the levels. Grizzly and polar and brown bears are almost guaranteed to be in a bloody mood. And you taste good to them. Black bears are smaller and have a self-preservation instinct that might save your life. Unless cubs are involved. Then, beware. The moral here is: love a turtle if you must, or a cuddly duck, but leave bears to the experts who assume they will be eaten sooner or later and have already made out their wills for just such an eventuality.

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Walking these city streets again peering down storm grates after small dogs and ducklings gone missing. Additions to my menagerie of lost and presumed dead. We have tea parties at midnight on new moons every twenty-eight days. Only honey, no milk, no sugar. Otherwise we sleep in and cuddle stuffed bears. I spotted a turtle once, and did the rescue, but then, a river release due to turtle tears mixing with the rain. We have read all of the Alice stories and next is Bilbo. In between we play solitaire together because they never know the difference.

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All rights reserved to Lisa J. Cihlar.

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