"May your coming year be filled with magic and
dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss
someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art
-- write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope,
somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself." - Neil Gaiman
Burning the Old Year
by Naomi Shihab Nye
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn't,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.
Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn't do
crackle after the blazing dies.