I woke up early with the intention of seeing
what the sunrise would look like on New Year's Day.
However, there was no sun. The morning was gray, not a
promising start to the promise of a new beginning.
I waited to go out a bit later and was greeted by a
lighter shade of gray.
A couple blocks over, the deflated Frosty
lay on his lawn, demoted from his role
as beloved Christmas character, back down
to a wadded nylon lawn ornament,
awaiting his return to a shelf in the garage.
The wind gusted to fifty miles per hour.
The trees brushed back and forth
against the gray canvas sky, roiling
the clouds like a Winslow Homer storm.
The streetlights at Twenty-fifth Street and
Parkwood Drive signaled to an empty
intersection, while the parking lot at the
shopping center spoke to people's
reluctance to meet the new day of the New Year.
* With apologies to Roy Orbison --