Cold Reflection

 

Upon reflection, you appear serene, upright, steadfast.
On either side, companions shed old leaves,
Digging in toe-roots to wait out the freeze.

Soaked in post-Solstice alcohol,
The Januarians exuviate collectively,
A synchronized reverie, a casting off
Of last year's ills
Upon a drowning sea of fuzzy memories.

But long before the budding comes the test:
These Resolutions--not to have regressed
Back into That, rather toward This.
After the well-dressed kisses
And the Auld Lang Synes fade,
What Progress have I made?

Morning after morning I confront the mirror:
Have I merely added millimeters
To this rust-blond beard?
To right this upside-down portrait
Would expose the bald lie lying there.
Those ghosts of future whitehairs
Floating on the surface, where
Dual states of matter coexist:
Fluid and unbending, edged and neverending,
Winter's ice deciding if it's truly time to melt
Or if the image captured is worth keeping.
Sleep on it, then.

Remember, though, the evergreen does not ever live;
Better yet to turn the dream back over,
Know the central image isn't always meant for you.
Relent the view that tells you what you Want,
But not your Need. With earth and sky
In proper seats, you plant the Seed,
And wait for Spring to call, and
(With a little Grace)
For all things to fall into place.