Wringing in the New
I sip Champagne to strains of Auld Lang Syne.
The moon dissolves with every peal and chime.
Tomorrow slips her sunshine hand in mine.
              I dance.
I shimmy through the embers of my dread
remembering the dreams I left for dead,
recalling gnawing wishes never fed
            and chance
old visions and decisions born anew
in edgy pledges keen to bid adieu
to every maudlin, melancholic view
            and drink
a toast to peachy Twenty Twenty-Two:  
hot thrills of bliss without the chill of blue –  
a chink, a wink, a kick as I kiss you
            and sink
into a sea of harmony to come
in days that swim along without the glum
banging of life’s gloomful, doomful drum
            and beam
a gleaming beam that always proves a hit –  
a grin of grit and wit that won’t admit
that every peachy year is topped with shit
            not cream! 

Susan Jarvis Bryant

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Susan Jarvis Bryant would be pleased to hear them.