The Turning

Stepping from the old year to the new
I carry with me seeds to green the view.
They're in the wool of jumper, mud of shoe.

Past and present
root and stem
fruit and leaf -
cogs in time's machinery.

The turning is a season
as eloquent as spring,
the smallest seedling from the past,
an oak in influence.

We may forget
write-off
ignore the year just gone.
It will not do the same for us.
Our footprints mark it:
its mark us.
The new start's never new,
the start's a part-continuum.

And yet the land is virginal.
Behind us:
leaves have withered;
fruit has rotted into this new seed;
there have been deaths;
and illnesses, like fungi,
have invaded healthy stock.

Big moments, these:
like redwoods in a kitchen garden.
Bark and sapwood cling to us:
new perfumes and old smells.

The pods of memory pop
and green shoots beckon
that were not there before.

Be careful with the fruit, my friend -
it bruises easily.

dVerse Poets Poetic Endings and Beginnings inspired this verse.

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!