Perhaps each new yearis a reincarnation of the last,
a recycling of failed days
and disappointing moments.
Throw the left-over frustrations,the kitchen-scrap resentments,
unwanted stinging weeds and discarded
bitter clippings of the old year
into the cosmic compost bin.
Wait, then, for gentle processes
and the good bacteria of forgiving decomposition,
to be made complete,
reducing unpleasant corruption
to timely dark humus.
Spread it over the naked and freshly-dug yearwith a quiet prayer;
trust in the divine unfolding
of seasons, sometimes painful,
and never quite expected.
Watch with wonder and delightas hopeful shoots emerge to be nurtured,
green, and full of life.
© Ken Rookes