New Year’s Day


Black Carrion birds

  encircle the sky,

in search for the dying or dead.


A lone little squirrel

  scampers right by –

A whole ‘nother world lies ahead.


Last year’s leaves 

  still cling to the vine,

they rustle and rattle in wind.


An old man clings to the end of a line,

the dog, to the end, a best friend.


New Year comes on

  past the last, having gone,

and the moment goes on to the end.


New Year’s Day, as some one will say,

is the same way New Year’s always been.


Again, and again;

  and again.




©Marvin Loyd Welborn, 2013

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