December 31st
by Richard Hoffman
All my undone actions wander
naked across the calendar,
a band of skinny hunter-gatherers,
blown snow scattered here and there,
stumbling toward a future
folded in the New Year I secure
with a pushpin: January's picture
a painting from the 17th century,
a still life: skull and mirror,
spilled coin purse and a flower.
From poetry.org
Here is to 2020.
by Richard Hoffman
All my undone actions wander
naked across the calendar,
a band of skinny hunter-gatherers,
blown snow scattered here and there,
stumbling toward a future
folded in the New Year I secure
with a pushpin: January's picture
a painting from the 17th century,
a still life: skull and mirror,
spilled coin purse and a flower.
From poetry.org
Here is to 2020.
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