This Good Earth rolls down the year’s trajectory
into a long period of darkness, like a crone letting go
into the territory of troubled dreams, and then awakens,
a babe reborn into light, that we might, too, live,
if not forever, at least a little longer than we deserve.
And yet we barely pause to give thanks before drifting
into another restless night, heat slipping off our bodies
into the cool of half-moon light and indifferent starglow.