The new year is less than a week old, perhaps too soon to make a prediction of how it will compare to 2025 ... although the presence of the new Furor-Musk administration is not a hopeful sign. We'll just have to take it as it comes, as Ella Wheeler Wilcox* suggests in today's poem ...
The Year
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of the year.
Let's shoulder the burden of 2025 and get on with it ... it is, after all, the first step toward 2026.
Have a good day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. More thoughts coming.
Bilbo
* Is there a law that says poets must have three names? Discuss.
1 comment:
One day closer to Jan 20, 2029.
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