Happy New Year
Out with the old, in with the new way of doing the same old thing.
Instead of snow, I clear the leaves. I don’t cleave to a resolution.
I don’t revolve around indecision. My natural giddyup takes off, as
the silence of empty-for-years-nest necessitated a sort and toss.
Happy New Year, a choice, when nothing precludes its success,
such as mourning in formal dress. Sneakers suffered from heel to toe,
as the alternative alteration of age - not hip, not on toes, unbendable.
Sixty-four years new, on the eve of ceremonial senior citizenry,
golden leaf revelry. Hold onto what is momentous: kith and kin,
giving in the form of an empathetic and devoted ear to your loved ones, acquaintances, strangers. Wishing you a Happy New Year. This one
begin with wraps and bows, even if the ball drops. Make it your best.
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