Right now, there is snow on the ground and children sled down the big hill in the park,
Shriek out in joyous rapture

From the window:
smells of rosemary, bacon sizzling in the pan, and coffee burnt but loved by all fathers who share in the exhilaration of a snowy day

Today is filled with happiness, shared as commonly as the lone cigarette at a party,
Passed around

Still, and not unlike that cigarette, the day is filled with a feeling of finality
Heavy as led

When it is over,
When the clock strikes for the last time, feeling more like a period than a comma
Ball dropping in Times Square like that most final form of punctuation

That is when I wonder:
What will those children’s delighted screams sound like in the next year to come?

Will the fathers hope for more wind chilled days where their young cry out to be pulled along in that red toboggan we all know so well?

Do they wish for their children to call out to them, “please daddy, please just one more ride!” as they watch their babies grow?

I may never know what those fathers, those proprietors of black and bitter folgers, wish for when they hear that vast and final toll of the clock tonight, marking the end of their latest sentence

And what of the children?
Whatever they wish must stay unknown to me, their own desires a mystery for them alone to learn

And when it rings in at midnight, the clock will have already accomplished it’s most sacred task of the year, only wishing to do it again and again endlessly

Comma after comma until the night when the ball drops again
Party poppers exploding in primary colored cheer
The clock ringing out,
A period to end the sentence

When the clock tolls
Heavy
Final
period after an endless run-on
I will hope for just one thing

I will close my eyes
And make a wish:

Love without fear is what will ring in my ears like the music all around me

When I feel myself grow angry, stubborn, or closed off
Love without fear is what will bring me back
this year

I can taste that goal like candy hearts, passed out in grade-school Valentines

When I turn on the news to see fires
Or war
Or violence of unspeakable measure
Those horrible unmentionable things that make blood boil

I will still look out my window and see love in all that’s around me

Keep candy hearts under my tongue so even the most bitter days taste sweet

And I will have love this year

Love for my students
And friends
Love for my own mistakes
Love for forgiveness, and the planet, and the oceans and the heavens above

Love
For all of it

I will hear that bell ring, twelve booming dings
And I will have only one shining syllable roll around on my tongue
That word will break free from my mouth in a joyous shout

The ecstasy of newness will overtake me then, and I will begin the hard work of loving myself,
Of loving the things I cannot change

I will do this so that maybe the next time there is snow on the ground,
And the bacon,
And the sleds
A period ready to be placed neatly at the end of this sentence, and a clock ready to strike
All around will be the taste of love

Then, with candied sweetness on my breath, I will be ready with a new list of goals to accomplish
Things far more tangible than this one thing I must do when the ball drops tonight.

Maybe,
I’ll finally learn to sew, or paint, or start a garden

I’ll tell strangers how beautiful they are, and walk more, or learn to juggle, or learn to cook

I will bake the perfect soufflé, and learn new songs, and write the most eloquent poems

Again,
The clock will ding
And the ball will drop
And people will scream out in glorious cries of “I love you!“ to anyone willing to listen

And there will be confetti, and kisses, and rosy cheeks filled with grapes for good luck, and happiness radiating from every direction as champagne is poured, and toasts are made to good health
And I will have beautiful new goals,
Because

after love all else will follow