
The year’s death is approaching
and my soul is in migration.
The breath of frost lingers
longer with each passing winter.
I sit looking out at the night,
coming down like calendar
pages falling to the floor.
The moon looks like a clock.
The wind whispers “tick tock”
The ghosts of 2015 stumble around in my backyard.
and sanity unbalanced sits on
the fence.
Unfulfilled dreams appear like
oracles at my front door.
I measure my loses.
I count my gains.
I write my life in blue.
Praying for the luminous dawn
of fresh beginning.
Hope diamonds the sky.
I long to dance with starlight
in a tango I’ve never danced
Hipswaying my way across
the galaxy.
Peeling off the last twelve months
like sheets.
The flakes of auld lang syne.
no longer glazing my bowl.
The skeletons of the past
under my feet.
Knowing biography is not fate.
There’s…