Small bird, singing sweet bravery
into the grey, morning cold,

Could it be that the half moon heard you?

A yellow bowl of light
rose in the East in the first few
minutes of this bright new year,
and the morning star smiled down on her.

Could it be that the rising sun heard you too?

Wooly clouds parted again when dawn arrived,
rows of icicles transforming into sparkling chandeliers
in the first orange rays of this New Year's Day.

May we thank you, small bird, for showing us the way?