A new year has begun
and the weather is cold.
A spider’s web has been spun
and the sunset is gold.
The trees stand barren,
devoid of their leaves.
The geese and the heron
have fled to the Keys.
The hearth has been lit.
The air carries the scent
of logs that were split -
and burnt as they’re meant.
New plans have been made
to live better than before.
And respects have been paid
to those who are no more.
A new year has passed
and spring will come soon.
The future appears vast
beneath a full moon.
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