You choose not to quiver or quake…
Is not dried weed loose from bondage?
Tramp down a pathway let the count begin
“ten, nine, eight…” back at the life-gate!
Single serene smile is stilled,
as snow softens in day’s sunlight.
Shaking loosely to frozen ground…
hear the drip, drip from heavy limb.
Pledge profit none as broken kindle;
windows of time have come again.
What be in another turning year?
A starting point to be renewed?
Snow falls heavy upon branches;
while another day it returns
to linger, taunting last year’s promise.
A new year’s resolution to begin…
Linking up with:Poetics– ChaNGe & TuЯns over at dVerse