are as acorns. I bury
them; by noon forgetting
them. The rain and snow
mix. The earth beneath

my feet freezes with all
my bright ideas of making
a brighter year. So, I skate
on the topping.  And as fall

arises I’m propping myself up
as a scarecrow. The ground melts
the snow. And I see the buried
wish, crisp as apples in a dish.  I’d

make a pie with them all. So, high
it’d topple and fall. But this year
I shan’t. No, this year the solution –
No resolutions!