NEW YEAR’S DAY
the sky holds back
its voice of blue-grey stone
bare live oak limbs
twist in mute exclamation
as busy little animals
run lightly over roots
stars no one can see
pass through an alignment
scribes number a new page
make a place for the moment
the south wind stirs
dry red leaves in a circle
according to physical laws
we set aside
as the red leaves come to rest