Because that’s what a new year does—
offer the clean slate, present the fresh calendar,
the new four-digit number that causes you
to shake your head and say, how can it be…?
The sense of time not so much passing
as racing, even more than the annual
notation of your birth—
and you, here on the brink, feel compelled
to make good, start over, resolve
(whether you say it or not):
This year will be different.
Of course, it will—with no help from you.
The months and days wear the same
names and numerals; the seasons
dress themselves in familiar clothes,
repeat in their reliable order.
Yet no two are the same.
Look closely. If you must resolve,
promise to find one new piece
of awareness every day—
within or without, one just out
of your line of sight, on the periphery,
that sound or color or thing
that makes you turn your head,
widen your eyes, attune your ears.
Yes, that. Only that.