The first day of the new year
silently edged its way inside
skulking around the wrapping paper
And the empty bottle of champagne,
not making a sound as if waiting
in ambush for the unsuspecting,
or the young, dulled by too much bubbly.
Here in the darkness
it waits patiently
to see what the inhabitants
have cooked up for it.
Before midnight and all the days
accumulated in the old year,
have the sleeping prepared new resolves
for what went undone… if they remember?
Will they remember to write 25 instead of 24
on the first check they write
or did they stop writing checks all together
in the old year or the old old year?
How many will forget the word new
for the twenty-fifth year of the twenties
because they hope nothing new
will disturb their well constructed lives.
How much energy will they expend
to ensure that 25 will be the same as 24?
Or how much energy to protect the 25th year’s
plans from the upstarts and the different?
Will this first day hear songs of praise
for all we have done
or with the songs hark the herald
of creativity, innovation, and new life?
“New Year?” Copyright 2025 by Glenn Currier
Written 1-1-25