New Year’s Day, 2018
It’s not the state we’re used to, this time around – of the union, or of being. The breeze is less than balmy, the palms nearly as frozen as our own. We’ve come back every other year or so for more than ten, and this, by far, is the coldest it’s ever been.
But that fat moon’s full and so’s the sky – of clouds, of promises for another year together, of more laughter and love. And the ocean still beckons with her salt and spray, shark teeth sprinkled throughout the sand for treasure hunting. We bundle up and find the fun and play near the shore and pray for more sun but marvel at that full-figured glowgirl still rising strong against this chilly chalkboard sky.
Pelicans trace stars
hollow wings feathered against
the winter moon’s face.
It’s Haibun Monday over at dVerse. Come play!