{"id":9512,"date":"2021-12-17T22:25:34","date_gmt":"2021-12-17T22:25:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stuartpoetry.art\/?p=9512"},"modified":"2021-12-17T22:25:34","modified_gmt":"2021-12-17T22:25:34","slug":"the-ice-is-near","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/2021\/12\/17\/the-ice-is-near\/","title":{"rendered":"The Ice is Near"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>When I was very young<\/p>\n<p>We used to live at a gas station<\/p>\n<p>Not far from the state line<\/p>\n<p>To the rear of our small house<\/p>\n<p>There were the Black Mountains<\/p>\n<p>Which was something of a misnomer<\/p>\n<p>As the peaks were snow covered<\/p>\n<p>For three of the four seasons each year<\/p>\n<p>My father owned a blue and red gas truck<\/p>\n<p>Which he tended to park away from the station<\/p>\n<p>For obvious reasons as lightning strikes were common<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>When I was six a stranger with a thick mustache<\/p>\n<p>Stopped at our station as he had developed a flat<\/p>\n<p>He handed my father a white envelope<\/p>\n<p>And instructed that I should not open it<\/p>\n<p>Until I was twenty-one and unmarried<\/p>\n<p>I waited for the next fifteen years<\/p>\n<p>And on a rainy October day<\/p>\n<p>Examined the contents of the envelope<\/p>\n<p>I found a note that was ink faded but readable<\/p>\n<p>It read<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em>He who knows how to breathe the air of my writings\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Knows that it is an air of the heights\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>A robust air\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>One has to be made for it\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Otherwise there is no small danger one will catch cold<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>The ice is near\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>The solitude is terrible<\/em><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The following day I ran away to the sea and have never returned<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The ice is near<\/p>\n<p>The solitude is terrible<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>When I was very young We used to live at a gas station Not far from the state line To the rear of our small house There were the Black Mountains Which was something of a misnomer As the peaks were snow covered For three of the four seasons each year My father owned a [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9512","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9512","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9512"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9512\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9513,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9512\/revisions\/9513"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9512"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9512"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stuartmillerosborne.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9512"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}