Gratitude is an experience.

It is a beautiful

humid, sticky, lovely Florida morning.

Birds chirping-

Planes soaring,

And I sit alone on a swing

having realized that in this moment

I am grateful to be sober

(at least my definition of it-

while working my way to theirs).

The sky is bright blue-

I can hear the sonic boom,

A rationalization of divine intervention!

How could it be humanly possible?

But like the squirrels that skitter through the trees

Or the drip of rainwater falling from the roof

Beside me-

There is motion, movement, freedom.

I linger in the thought

That I will never live this day again,

And I replay it in my mind-

Devil knocking on my door

Like he had a thousand times.

I knew he lurked behind it.

I was tempted,

I can’t lie.

However something within me

Couldn’t help but find it funny.

“Move a muscle, change a thought.”

And there’s so much movement

I’ve already forgot.

Swaying back and forth on a swing,

There’s this feeling-

Like the ocean tides, I find serenity

Within me.

There is also fear, surely

The anxiety can’t just

Up and disappear.

But as I sit here

And check in with my body,

Writing this sketch-

I just think that it’s funny.

On a warm, sunny summer day

I taste what it’s like to be sober-

Just for today.