New

 

It isn’t really a fresh start –

Or a blank slate, or a clean page.

It doesn’t wipe away the time,

The simmering hurts, the dried-up dreams;

It doesn’t make you a new self

Out of starlight and watered silk

In the image of your oldest hope

For what you might someday become;

It’s only a mark in the shifting sand,

A rest in the music, a quick breath in,

And a chance to raise a glass to uncertainty –

Of all companions the most faithful in this life.

Eve

 

With the snow the silence fell,

Making a space for dreams.

We woke, and the white world was open,

Fresh as a canvas, quiet as prayer.

 

Nothing to do but to begin,

Marring the white with every step.

Everything is irreversible,

Every move etched in the vanishing snow.

 

Tonight wonders and marvels awaken

Across this yearning planet;

We sleep, and the sleep is unbroken

Until the morning forgives us our dreams.