New Year

The book closes, upon the year of dreams.
Glasses placed aside. Hands flexed.
Stand, to the window and the sunrise scene.
Green fields and gold. Distant crops fetched
by tiny people, to and fro. The long night sets,
and new days wake in orange glows of peace.
Birds blink and sing, dart in jets
in the warmth of fresh damp sky, and release,
to glide and fly in a new dawn's breath.
The new year is here!
Let its bright bells toll the old year's death.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.