Yet another year

Photo by Jamie Street on Unsplash

The sun covers my fingers this morning,
this year that becomes another.
I’m asking how to join with it, how cold
air from the north mixes with a southern
front and shapes a billowing sky.

This year has no hand to grasp, no rope
to braid. It’s a simple oil bronze lock
opened by blade and bow. This year
is an invitation to notice…