The wan light might be tired
but it tries to shine

In this kind of darkness,
this is fine

Good morning.
Lean into the good,
even if a hangover fug
has you in its grasp,
breathe deep.

We still have grey days
to argue with, some tears,
til greenery ensues
when lost, hidden and new truths will return.

So make the morning good,
with toast and jam
or salt, fat and shenanigans.

And for your soul,
despite the impotent bitterness
of prevailing winds,
prop open the door a little.

I’ll tread this crystal mud,
set a while to peer through veils
to make poor assumptions of what’s to come

As augury I’ve asked the birds
but shy of the same woodpecking rattle,
they stay schtum

I’ll indulge in haruspicy
in making dinner, sure
that no steak and kidney mouthful tells

Glass in hand, hepatoscopy
defines the coming year
where new is frozen

The Eve watching Flash Gordon together
through gaudy chocolate wrappers
that made no difference to the crackling lunacy

The Eve as a coiled-spring eighteen year old
tumbling hoarse from the pub, through shining cold,
to the timed warmth of home and snuck pastry

The Eve lost to tears as a young man
penniless, heartbroke, falling,
safety-net caught, in hindsight

Tomorrow there will be another trail left,
from pillowcase to clues written in wit and love
that lead to presents I still hold tight

Mustard coloured turtle necks
and haircuts that owe a lot
to the nearest mixing bowl,
the fuzz and fade of decades
in the album, closed and out of mind,
can’t dim the smiles
or hide those who are there
amongst the wrapping paper drifts

It’s about now that my brother,
like some atomic clock for childhood illness,
gets the annual razor blade throat of tonsillitis.
As much as it’s a pain for him,
has he no consideration for me?
Who’ll be better than me
at playing with my toys now?
Dad?
Pfffft.

There have been other years
when the gross ache of being apart
was caused by the spiral growth of life,
but it was ours,
easily fixed by a Boxing Day trip
or a warm January shindig.
This year’s exponential spiral
stifles all but the cold binary of a zoom call
and fans smouldered ire at the avoidable