FLAW IN SNOW
Waiting for snow. Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads, warm beds, reading by firelight. Waiting for the proof of lack of control. Waiting itself proves lack of control. I can dance the snow dance and refuse to buy new shovels, hang out laundry, put out every manner of storm tempters; still I cannot force the hand of nature. I must sit with my crystalline optimism and endure these cloudless skies. There will be snow, it will fall somewhere, but I mustn’t grow overanxious ‘cause it may never snow in Miami.
Treat yourself with learning.
My Most Important Meal
Sweet potato pudding sits on the plate;
I sit in my place and wield my spoon
until the plate is clean.
I’m fed, my day begins.
If this is the best part of my day,
life is still sweet and fine.
Time skips its way through and I meet and greet
the splendid and the few.
Picking my way, the raindrops step aside;
I am gratified, though I never mind the rain.
When the mud has settled and my bed calls me home;
I look back to the start of the day
and pray to begin the next one the very same way.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault