And yet again, we start anew. I take it as a privilege to be able to do so every single day. Each morning from the window of my office, I watch the sunrise and my heart does a little jig as the rays reflect off the glass of the surrounding buildings and beam onto my face. It’s akin to how you feel just before you scribble on a blank sheet of paper. Sadly we'll be starting the new year minus one of our four legged family members. This poem is for my buddy Ike who tore up the turf with the best of them and took me for a ride only a jockey could have known.
January Thaw by Rosalie Hickler
There was rain in the night, a dull delivering rain
That washed the air of sparkle and hard blue gleam,
And bent the frozen grasses in the meadow,
And loosed the stream.
Now is talk and laughter of running water,
Light imperious talk of water freed.
Indolent winds stray through the winter meadow,
Everyone knows that death is a season only.
Though laughter is hushed again, and tempests shout,
It is not long till fire runs in the maples
And ice goes out.