Without Blues

For all those who have seen drugs, alcoholism and abuse tear their families apart.

Without the stub of crocus,
the breeze through cedar
and hills to climb
in the soft light of January
I would be lost.

Without the picket lines'
"How you doing?"--
friends sitting around at the table
while November rains,
I would wash away in tears.

Without my pencil,
the work that must be done,
the brothers and sisters
in the strong August sun,
I would go over the edge.

~~Lonnie Nelson