The old year clings to its fragile stalk,

tenacious, reluctant.

In its husk hang dreams and memories,

broken resolutions,

minutes and hours dried to a crisp.

The dawn of the new year shines pale,

impotent in its infancy,

tiny arms flung to the heavens.

Uncertain, each regards the other; one

with suspicion and the weight of wisdom,

the other with wonder, innocent of pain or pleasure.

The old bows in silence,



falls to the rights of the year to come.

As it falls,

it scatters seeds

and the sunlight

notes where they land.


14 comments on “Regimes

  1. Wonderful thoughts! Thanks.

  2. Debbie says:

    Goodnes, Melody . . .this was super touching and powerful too. Thank you!

  3. I like this poem; it feels right. It speaks to what we all know – elegantly. A well-done piece, Melody.

  4. That was indeed powerful because it’s true and we feel the truth of it. Beautifully done, Melody.

  5. Lyle Krahn says:

    It’s great to see that your ability to weave words has carried into the new year. Happy snow.

  6. Gallivanta says:

    And that is the order of things….. 🙂 So we can be hopeful that all will be well.

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