A New Year Almanac

1st January
After the beer-and-firework-flavoured night,
the paint-bomb brouhaha of hope and grief,
a mug of tea. The grey sky breathes
a sigh of relief.

6th January
Old beech tree, winter widow, all alone —
majestic in her nakedness — leafless to the bone.

18th January
What’s going on?
         What does the weather know?
My therapist says my anxiety
          would ease if I could bear uncertainty.
The clouds are up to something—
                                            will it snow?

24th January
The condensation on the windowpane
becomes a willow-pattern mountain range.
A moon-boat sails the sky down Orchard Lane.

31st January
The Stoic’s month. A good one to be born(e).
Young snowdrops, pushing bravely through the lawn.

Annie Fisher
 
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Annie Fisher  would be pleased to hear them