We celebrate the new year
like we do a new baby,
the thrill of so much potential.
I always expect to feel
the moment the year changes
but of course it doesn’t work that way.
Time tilts us forward so gently
that we don’t notice
until we are upside down.
Still I covet the artifice of this night,
the anticipation,
the counting down.
Isn’t that what ritual is,
grinding time to a halt
for a moment
to mark what would otherwise
float by?
Like my baby
curled up on top of me,
skin as soft as fruit.
They all asked tonight
and I told them she is new
though we both know
she has been here
all along.