Into the Book


bright and flicker,
the morning rises again
as the earth tilts,
still falling through space
planned and careening,
orchestrated to teem with wildness
and the sun is a smokescreen
glimpsed underneath the clouds.

yesterday the sun came piercing through
but today it hides again
as winter meanders among 60s and 70s
like they are old years
or old friends.
the planet turns and the sky slides above it,
day by day.
the year is ending,
shutting down,
or winding like threads.
and january comes,
ianus, in latin.
the door,
yawning in the sky,
teeming with water and sun and storm and smoke
and unknown days.
you can cling to a rickety plastic guard rail as you hike the mountain,
or you can hang on to an ancient walking stick,
grip it as you run and stumble along old paths,
morning rise and evening set,
as the sun resurfaces and dives again
but counts time all the same.

the doorframe is large and yawning for some,
small for others,
but it is marked on the same planet one day or another,
the same planet for you and I
with the same sun in the center.

A poem for 2016 and the New Year.

Published on 2 January, 2016. Last updated on


  1. Andrew Joyce

    Really appreciated this one, Elizabeth. Beautiful imagery throughout, and a great poem to ring in the new year.

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