at precisely 11:54 p.m. last night my dog woke me up–
his cold nose in my face.
then I heard the knowing boom.
he hates fireworks.
he just wanted on the bed.
i moved over, he curled is 110 pound body in the curve of my legs,
he breathed a sigh of relief.
usually he soothes my anxious moments, now it’s my turn to soothe his.
as midnight grew closer, so did the fireworks, gunshots,
everyone in my house is asleep, except me.
listening, watching, waiting.
i almost missed the new year.
i am desperate for a new year like a whelped pup is for milk.
the wind is cold outside,
but the fireworks pop. pop. pop.
the soft rain isn’t keeping the merriness at bay.
i counted down earlier in the night with husband and son,
we did sparklers, sprayed silly string and threw pop-its.
we were merry–
ate moist donuts and juicy pomegranates.
watched Tom Holland’s Spider-Man, played chess, sipped Shirley Temples.
discussed resolutions: stay positive. move forward.
cherish the day.
count your blessings. one. day. at. a. time.
seek joy, love, and hope. always hope.
say your goodbyes (to my mom, Betty White)
may we finally see this pandemic turn into an endemic.
the world is worn out.
our Christmas tree lights seem to sparkle with more heart.
the rain falls with emphasis now, as the world eagerly celebrates.
Happy New Year.
—gina marselle, (C) 01.01.2022
Listen to the poem here: https://m.soundcloud.com/gina-marselle/welcome-2022