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.