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New Year

by Clara Mae Gregory

In this airy smell of pine,
Time zones can only allow
the recapture of a few hours.
And in that space,
the last seconds still slip away.
I can always pretend and replay
the songs of an old year,
and hear with cheer or sadness
the cumbrous voice of choice
to overcome or succumb
to my world’s madness.
This world’s at an end
Of an olden year,
Readied to renew another-
In a wintered chimera
that tries to swallow
the bitter mistakes
of our shortcomings.
But true beginnings
Are not in Winter.
Still , there is the welcome
Of another year to breathe
And reflect on the blessings
Or the blemishes of the past.
Faultering and forgiving,
We await the season
of the Son’s Coming.
Meantime, we need
to taste the pine nut seeds
Gathered in the forest of life.


12/31/2012
[My mother passed in the beginning of the year. My husband and I reconciled on Mother's Day and continued our marriage. I bought an RV to grieve and celebrate, intertwined.}Written during our maiden trip RV Adventure exploring the United States of America]

04/06/2018

Author's Note: repost

Posted on 04/06/2018
Copyright © 2018 Clara Mae Gregory

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/06/18 at 02:28 PM

New Year...new start...new poem. I like this very much CM. As you would say *Stellar* My condolences about your mother, and best wishes/good luck to you and hubby on your adventures travelling across the USA.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 04/06/18 at 02:28 PM

PS: Love the ending also.

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