The Landscape of Words
Paint takes time to dry; I work with words. I say azure and you are there with me, even if I am far from this mortal coil, my pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue, as long as you can hear me, read me, see me. I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together, trapped, til I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe. I love the flow of watercolor, adore the mushy paste of oil, but nothing beats the world we paint and repaint here on this page.
Explain why frogs don’t have wings
My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game.
Doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy.
My trouble is my own.
I pursue trivia at my discretion.
I take or reject risk at will.
I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes
But don’t expect to live in a candy land.
When I stick my hand in a mouse trap
Or fall down shoots and need to climb up ladders.
I know the game may not be over
But it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.
You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault