Poem for a New Year
Poetry as prayer
May I be filled with lovingkindness,
with the scent of warm moss
when the snow melts
and thin streams of water trickle
from eaves and branches,
a resounding flood of awakening.
May I be filled with wet bark
and with the feathery gills
of brightly colored mushrooms,
dissolving pieces of earth whose time
has passed — shepherding decay,
accepting even poison while standing
tall, capable, and unharmed.
May I be filled with soft green clover
in various states of bloom,
visited by hopeful, thirsty bees
from neighboring pine and poplar,
and heartily bathed in sunlight.
May I be filled with red
and orange maple leaves
and the sound of bears, and birds,
and deer, and small mice,
replenishing their stores of things
from the forest and the fields
that just finished their growing,
so that they can all rest
in their own ways.
May I be at ease and happy.
