
the animal photos i use
when blogging are so hard to choose,
that i write the texts
while kitty selects
the ones that will get the most views
–photo by me

the animal photos i use
when blogging are so hard to choose,
that i write the texts
while kitty selects
the ones that will get the most views
–photo by me
whether we’re a




we fill our own niches
and we have our own worth
for each of us enriches
the fauna of the earth
–photos by me

hiking in the cold
the morning sun warms my face–
right down to my soul
–photo by me

I took a long drive in the country yesterday to think about things. You see, I’ve always been a hearty guy, but lately I’ve been a little unnerved by the steady deterioration of my faculties and general health. Am I that same guy?
Deep in thought about it, I turned a corner, and there it was–an old barn in the middle of nowhere. I felt an immediate affinity with it, in that it was old and somewhat broken down like me. It was then that I realized that the kind of beauty it has can only be found in the old and rustic. Maybe I could live with the new old me. There’s an old anonymous quote that seems fitting here:
“Sometimes
You find yourself
In the middle of nowhere;
Sometimes
In the middle of nowhere
You find yourself.”
–Photo by me

owl
nocturnal, drowsy
posing, drifting, dozing
hitting the hay now
hooter
–photo by me
she sits at her table
in soft candlelight,
peers into her crystal
and scries,
her chalice and athame
gleam in the night–
she is young
but incredibly wise.
she casts not a spell
as to harm anyone,
but petitions that
justice be done:
to hurt someone else
is to hurt herself–
she understands
we are as one.




–photos by me

She was trying to cheer up
Her friend across the table,
But the others got jealous,
Glances were exchanged,
And a brief scuffle ensued.
She became so incensed,
She turned her back to them,
And there they sat in silence.
It grew cold between them
And soon they drifted apart.
Obviously.
–Photo by me

the
old man
and his house
lived together
for so many years
that they began to share
certain adjectives such as
old and cold, shaky and flaky–
though lately, it’s more gerunds such as
moaning and groaning, creaking and leaking
–photo by me

I know 3 months is a relatively short time, but for me, it’s probably the longest stretch of sobriety I’ve had since I was in basic training for the Air Force. I’m feeling great, and all this shoveling I’ve been doing is whipping me back into shape. The horror of withdrawal is still fresh in my mind, but lest I forget, here’s an excerpt from my poem Withdrawal:
What was I thinking
I went back to drinking
And now I lay stinking
At home in my bed,
Tossing and turning
My stomach is churning
My fever is burning
I wish I was dead…
No, I don’t miss that at all.
I never believed in AA because the first step of their method is to admit that one is powerless over alcohol, and I just couldn’t believe that. I thought the only one who could help me was me. I was wrong, obviously; I couldn’t help me.
After I almost died from drinking in November of last year, I finally gave in, and on my son’s advice, I pulled stakes on my life and moved in with him. Thank you, Aaron, you saved your pa’s life!