Year’s End (A Prologue)

Year’s End (A Prologue) © 2001

by philip scott wikel

Setting out on the prowl now

at “god-speeded” annum’s end

in the darkness and cold of 4am

and my slightly shaken converted garage

settling in the sand of time

when oceans broke down my back alley

and tore at what is now a row

of mexican sage hanging together with roses

and fuchsia…

no “fishwife” cross to bear nor birds singing in trees

stood stillbut a fenian fiddle and flute waft a “Gaelic Air”

against my back while all excepting me lies sleeping

having woken from the last of long winter’s naps into

a darkness of day’s end at the end of days in this year’s

great turning aside

Sun only hours, if not minutes away and

though she has begun stretching herself higher

this day is her last in the paradoxical contradiction of

one mind’s eye that tracks years like a ferris wheel and is

given to dizziness from the slightest twirl and thinking of

another soul waking with whom to share this last morning

but dark with the sparkle of cities after the sparkle

shone the way and only those with work on their feet need be

out in this skin-biting frosted morning when all should be sleep

and peace

and pause

and a great sigh of relief as we breathe to sing “Auld Lang Syne” and smile

the smile that says another year has not beaten us and the next hasn’t a chance

if only a stance

a steeling oneself against January

the last of the real dead days for nature who

ignores our clock and will not wake her children until that sun of hers

is ready to sail,

forgetting the peddlers of this and sure of

an even flight.


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