It is supposed to be the first day of Spring tomorrow but it snowed here so I want to post the first poem I wrote earlier this year as it was created in the depth of Winter and the depth of my creativity.
A New Year
Full of mystery and wrapped up
in unknown but tempting as a new gift
on the breast of an esoteric dancer
the year beckons and calls me
on its path, whispering its promises.
But who is to preview its possible sadness
its quirks and its joys, its folly and its remorse’s
who is to know its games and its delights
the shape of its days
and the night of
The year will die but will bud in our minds
it will trace many stories for many lives
and seal the fate of many more in death
and the solace of remembrances.
The year will dance on our trails
bury its stories and memories
and open like the stillness
like a coveted book.
A new year is like dawn
or a winter sunrise,
rich in reds, full of light and
silently bringing the promise
or the threats of an unfolded day.
Copyright Micheline Brierre 2010