First week of the year—
 
we toss old poinsettias
 
on the compost heap.

 
 
 

Underneath the bills
 
I find a New Year’s greeting
 
from my childhood friend.

 
 
 

first dream of the year—
 
a pilgrimage to somewhere
 
not on any map

 
 
 

First day of the year—
 
I set my feet on a path
 
that I cannot see.

 
 
 

Last night of the year—
 
in his favorite dumpster,
 
a homeless man snores.

 
 
 

How satisfying
 
to eat an avocado
 
as the old year ends!

 
 
 

a journey too long
 
to make in less than a year—
 
the first plum blossom

 
 
 

I greet the new year
 
with kolaches, black coffee,
 
and a three-mile walk.

 
 
 

First day of the year—
 
the Mexican gardener
 
wakes up before 6.

 
 
 

December’s last day—
 
even the old stone Buddha
 
embraces the change.