The New Year

The new year beckons
Like a full moon hanging over a snow covered field
Calling to me
Asking me to leave
The comfort of last year
Where I still am lingering
Warm and content
More or less
Sitting in a Queen Anne wingback chair
In front of the fire
Nothing left to do
Nothing left to chance
Offering only the beauty and promise
Of an unspoiled expanse of snow and
Whatever treasures I can discover for myself
In its reflected glow