I tipped the jar to 45
and waited for the force,
scrutinizing its slow slumber
in contrast to my readiness.
The plans were made.
Five years in total.
The recipe a combination
of tradition and creation.
Grudgingly a mass built,
began its descent,
slow moving though,
despite efforts with the tilt.
And now to 60,
with viscosity overcome,
friction no longer an issue,
at last momentum.
Impediments seemed few,
the flow gained credence,
and as the volume increased
enthusiasm grew.
The mass poised on the lip,
almost over the edge,
its chance for all to mix
now thwarted and nixed.
Postponement jolted emotions
back upright and quiescent.
A sobering dimension
to the spirits unleashed.
Flow now dismantled.
Reconvening another year out.
What will happen to the mix
and how to find the perfect fix?
We are challenged with the issue,
but without deep despair
for our reservoir of nectar
stands waiting in reserve.
Resting 50 years full.
Many stories to be shared,
many laughs to be heard,
will await the proper tilt.
I know the angle to the jar
is 71 when we get there,
where flow begins to cascade
and our momentum again remade.
— Rob Farnham, February 12, 2021