At the Boundary of a Year
Days are a bit longer.
Today has 46 seconds more daylight.
Remembrances of last year
and hopes for next year flow on the tide.
The weather report holds the promise of a storm.
Rain to dent our drought of thought.
Wind to drive the life giving waters ashore.
The warm blanket of clouds settling down to warm our souls.
I sit at the computer typing away.
A cup of tea as I come out of the long dark winter tunnel.
Creativity has ebbed
as I fight for each keystroke.
The tide turns to yearning.
A book to edit.
A book to write.
A poem that floats half complete in my sleep.
Ebb and flow.
Siting on a rock, cup of tea in hand.
Looking down the long valley of last year.
A deep breath,
and a glance a up the hill of the next year.
Stand and plant feet firmly.
Brush the dirt off my butt.
Hoist the pack to my shoulder.
and it’s time to move on.
Till next week