I thought I'd reshare this poem for New Year's Day – I wrote it in 2016 but it feels more suited to 2021. Yes, this January 1st is just a Friday after a Thursday and nothing in the world has changed, but even if things get worse again we’re still one day closer to better times. Keep going.
A New Year
The years are storm-straddled,
crag-black hooves thundering between headlands,
kicking up hailstones,
washing sandbagged towns to the sea.
But, this afternoon, jaws clamp open,
and all surface water reflects a fresh blue page.
So go outside, and with the winter sun on your neck,
a crisp shock of air in your lungs, tune out
the fore-echo of hoofbeats, the sound
of the storm about-turning. A new year stretches out
as empty as mirrors, though no doubt still heavy
with the weight of a first bite.