The passage of time
is a smooth loop
of circles around the sun –
a ‘year’ has no natural edge
so can’t be ‘new’ or ‘old’
in any truthful sense –
these numbers we add up
are merely markers
of how long we’ve been counting.
But as winter catches our breath
it seems good to return to old rituals
so I pause and observe:
what is shifting inside
as we spin on this orbit?
what marks have been left
by recent joy and sorrow?
where will my heart lead me
if I let it?
Richard Watkins (2019) Alive or Else. Simply This Publishing