New Year Shrouded in Fog
To begin with an expression: a bolder move perhaps
Than the years that have recently passed
There was a time when I greeted the new year
with a magic word I once heard in a book: shirak
In my mind's eye then, the year’s dawn lifted itself mightily
Above the horizon of possibility,
Lit by my hopes and certainties.
Now, as another brother of that season greets me
From beyond my perception, I eye him suspiciously;
Each anthem on television, each shout of exhilaration,
Each resolution, each restitution, each revolution,
Each new year’s solution…
The jade of poorly hatched past plans edges into my vision,
Tonight, outside my window, fog crowds the street, blocking out buildings,
Billowing between me and future unsure
And somehow, that comforts me.
Anything can happen. I remember Basho:
Perhaps in the mirror tomorrow, I will see a new man.