31 December 2010

poem for a new year

the sun has gone into hiding here in ohio.

the rain walks across
the yard and carries the snow
down to the flowers
entombed beneath garden beds.

the jagged trees, waiting along the road
for their rides, slowly think,
on the cusp of this new year,
that losing their leaves
in october
was a grave mistake.
they remember no springs.

here, inside, it is warm. the family is
gathered. the extravagant meal
has been eaten. the toast to the new year

the past year is in bed,
past caring, accepting the long sleep
ahead. in hindsight, the year
seems both benign and foolish.

we imbued him with
powers. we wished him
to change our lives. his magic,
a desired con.

but the year ends
mostly as it started.
the spells we threw like dice
have won us nothing.
there is no magic after all.

on the cusp of this new year,
i feel kinship with those trees
who have forgotten spring,
and the flowers gathering snow
into their shallow tombs.

but with the clocks poised to
leap, and the trees reading the braille of the stars,
I sense that one day we will all still be surprised,
they and I,

so very, very surprised.


1 comment:

country girl said...

Great poem. I love surprises so hope this year has lots of good ones. I'm ready.