A Sonnet for a New Year

Dragging knees and shadow, 

Each seeking a new light. 

Darkness there provides no warmth, 

Bequeaths a certain bite. 

Some ancient soul who felt the blade, 

Bent futures to his will. 

Histories turn’d other cheek, 

Calendars for a kill. 

But some who favor heat’s mirage, 

Find sense, eternal spring. 

Pompous Romans carry not, 

Control such heavy things. 

When opened are the buds anew, 

So then is our rebirth too.