As the Year Wanes

Release slowly brings its own reward,
When trees are stripped of camouflage of leaves,
Clarity superior to ecstasy of spring
As the year wanes toward its close….
A year I shall not be sad to see pass.
There is a pale honesty that comes,
Peels away resistance
Only after Christmas late December….
Glides down into calm review.
Frozen in memory, fictions born in earlier
gray mornings of the brain
Slowly let go, fall away,
Addresses history with greater clarity
Not known in April’s green nor
August heat that burns,
Comes to lie in state in late December,
Simple and barren as it makes reflective point.
We cannot yet hold tight
To the year not yet born….
All we do is fashion obsolete resolutions,
Throw away this year’s list of wrongs,
Dream of foreplay yet to come.
Better to drain away the rhetoric,
Listen to the silent stones,
Still balanced as though in afterthought,
Swaddled by cold December’s sun.


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