—after George Flegel’s Dessert Still Life (1620s)
and Carl Sandburg’s Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind

We have our moments, the scenes perfectly set.
Maybe we’re romping in the autumn field
just after sunset, hay freshly-cut and baled, 	
suffused in soft blue light; or we’re sauntering
through the park in early February, awed by
a single daffodil gussying up the newly-raked, 
russet-red pine straw; or perhaps we are
conversing with family at the evening meal
complete with meat and fine wine and 
confectioneries ribboned in cinnamon and 
snow. And crack! Time lowers his baton. 
The scene shifts, the music changes. 
Enter crows, the rain, the rats and lizards.
                        

The new year is a road of curiosities and
surprises, possibilities at every turn. Open
your eyes wide and lean into the curves. Feel
the wind against your skin and hold your breath
for sudden drops and fast declines. Look left
to see laurel mantling the mountainside,
right to take in the striped Painted Turtle resting
on river’s rocks. Glance in your rear-view mirror, 
the sky ablaze with persimmons and honey,
kumquats, and malted milk. The year’s 
opportunities are as thick as big toe’s old nail
polish, as sweet and layered as Christmas baklava. 
Perhaps white rainbows will frequent rainy skies
this year, maybe an okapi’s scented hoofprints
will appear on your path.