Those gleeful  warm days are alive in the graves still
Lurking ghosts regularly peep in the new year thrill
Reminding us of unrestrained  colours
Spilled over in last blind December
And the songs? Each and every melody?
Must all the notes be burned into a new tune of this January chill?
We can’t resist the warmth of time changed
The unfamiliar imagery will be accepted and embraced
Flutters of the meditating wing
and the perfume of the wilted spring
All packed in with baggage of this life trip!