Balancing Whims
A poem by L. Lois

Balancing Whims

my father
was an accountant
he ran his life
by the book

statistical
odds and calculation
ruled decisions
fun a by-product remainder

we consumed
by logic
were controlled
through precision

but, at Christmas
old Mrs. Alder
came for dinner
and a drink by the tree

I’ve forgotten
my presents
though not the
glorious excitement

and always
one card
perched on a branch
waiting patiently

my father’s slanted,
exquisite
fountain pen script
beckoned on the envelope

“to Mrs. Alder…
from all of us.”
extravagance tucked inside:
her beloved lotto ticket

and I remember
the year she won
and her insistence on sharing
with my father

an accountant’s
regulations of love
infused with
a widow’s magic belief

About the Author:

L. Lois lives in an urban hermitage where trauma-informed themes flow during long walks by the ocean. She is pivoting through her grandmother-era, figuring out why her bevy of adult children don’t have babies, nor time. Previous essays have been featured in Canada’s Globe and Mail, her poetry on In Parentheses and in Woodland Pattern’s 30th Annual Poetry Marathon

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