It is so tempting and somewhat expected
To measure a year in numbers.

Twelve months, twelve thousand
More dollars in a bank.

Today, eight months since spring.

In Colorado, only one inch of rain
Since July.

How many trees lost to fires?

I can’t count how many prayers.

Next year I will have three hundred and sixty-five days.

And I don’t intend on wasting
Any single one of them.