A Deep River Year
January 1, 2014

 Today is a new year. For us, the passage of time is momentous. We face this passage with some bravery, because it makes us remember that our stock of these things is running low. None of us gets too many years to spend. So we plow into 2014 with a certain intention to make things better while we have a chance. We vow to lose weight or exercise more. We intend to be more tolerant of the foolishness and flaws of others, and if we are wise, we hope to be more forgiving to ourselves.

 Years ago Phyllis and I planned a wonderful New Year's Eve. It was a major turning of the calendar, the edge of a century beginning with the number 20. Some looked at the coming of year "Y2K" as ominous. Prophets of doom said that computers would fail all over the world. One man warned me that our church should be stockpiling food, water, guns and money to prepare for the catastrophe that was sure to come (it was in the Bible, you know). Phyllis and I had other plans. We put on our fanciest clothes--a gown and a tuxedo--and headed off to an elegant party, in spite of the fact that we were both suffering from a terrible case of the flu. We could hardly stand up as we sipped champagne, and finally we excused ourselves from dinner well before 10 p.m. and made our way home. We fell into bed, turned on the TV, watched reruns of the fireworks over the Eiffel Tower, and fell asleep. We didn't make it to midnight in Connecticut, but we woke up the next day and the world was still here.

So today we begin the great wheel of the year again. The world is still here. I am too, for the time being. I celebrate that I am not alone. And I have faith that is good to begin again.

Sparrows' New Year

 The sparrows huddle in the forsythia
 this cold, cold morning,
 a choir waiting for the altos to show up,
 and with no particular song in mind.
 I would teach them
 a chorus of Auld Lang Syne,
 remind them of a day, once,
 when the world was young,
 and love was sweet.
 I would teach them, too,
 to make some plans, to dream
 of some better idea than this,
 perhaps a sparrow heaven.
 But for them, this day is young,
 and love is as sweet
 as a winter sun on feathers
 and a morning full of seeds.
 Like today, for them
 every day is a beginning,
 a new year,
 a good place to hold on,
 where they can move closer together
 when the night comes.

 --Timothy Haut, January 1, 2014