November 5
BEFORE THE END OF THE ROAD
Before the end of the road tiny stone lay on the side,
freshly painted lines glimmer in this twilight trance. Walking the macadam, the crunch underfoot
changes my perspective. No steering
wheel or accelerator, this is ankle express all the way. Walking the road step by step, on my own, I
am part of the soft and growing world progressing on a plan of separate
integrity. Moist, lush wonder is missed
by the motor speedway I let rule my life.
Honeyed sweetness covers the vegetation swaying in the undulating
airborne pulse. I am tempted to lie down
and have a roll, but my role tonight is to reach the end of the road. When my goal is achieved I may choose a
woodland life or an urban endeavor.
Seeing the end of this path is job enough for now. Decisions anticipated prior to arrival are
foolish diversions. I need to stay, not
stray, with the dancers in the wind.
Execute the
detractors in your mind.
*
Let the Groundhog Sing It
Mistakes and poor choices save me
from attempting to climb out onto moral high ground.
Moral ambiguity keeps me protected
from the illusion of relentless righteousness.
Lopsided living is a fate I am spared
due to my flawed execution of perfection;
all in a day’s work for a functional human.
Left by the wayside is the fantasy that I am all right.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
