Sunday, December 20, 2020


It has seemed rather longer
Than calendars would permit,

This year of symmetrical
Numbers, mirroring horrors,

This Annus Mirabilis
In the similar parade.

Infants and children too young
To personally recall

This year will grow tired of tales
About this year, one of those

You know will be a tent-pole
For personal histories

Even before fixed in place.
It’s just one of those weird years

That cleaves before and after
More memorably than most.

So what? It will end. All years
Season into other years,

With or without calendars.
Spinning could end; the cycling

Could come to an abrupt halt—
Even astronomically

Rare astronomical ends
Happen again and again—

But it’s pretty safe to bet
This one turn, after billions,

Won’t see the planet go splat,
And let’s get out on a limb

And bet, as long as Earth spins,
Some kind of life will begin

And end and begin again.
So this year isn’t the end

And the next year won’t begin
Anything not already

Here on its way to its end.
God, this has gone on too long.

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