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!
even on the ground
the snowy owl manages
to look down on me
–photo by me
i would be sick to death
of another winter’s day
but nature’s frosty breath
still takes mine away
–photo by me
my beloved as been gone for nearly 11 years, and i won’t have any other, so a monochrome monday seems fitting.
–photos by me
I was out on one of my adventures this morning when I came upon a small ice house on a secluded lake. As I stood there wondering about its possible occupant, the door opened, and an old man stepped out for a minute, only to disappear inside again. I thought about walking out to visit with him a bit, but I didn’t want to ruin his solitude nor mine. Solitude is something to be treasured in our busy lives. It reminds me of a quote by Joseph Krutch:
“To have passed through life
and never experienced solitude
is to never have known oneself;
To have never known oneself
is to have never known anyone.”
–Photo by me
A bipolar bear named Rene
is merrily manic in May
But then by late autumn
She sinks to rock bottom
And sleeps the whole winter away.
–photo by me
in the dead of winter
on the coldest nights
the dead can be seen
rising from the deep
to suckle at nature’s
low-hanging fingers
–photo/art by me
–photo by my son aaron
we sure love horses–
and with their spirits broken,
horses love us too
–photo by me
michaeljordahl 