New Year’s Snow

The new year’s sidewalk waits for a shovel

To scrape the illusion of clean from its gritty surface

While I sit by the fire determined to write

A poem of procrastination and stubborn resolve,

That despite my reluctance to greet the new year

In all its frigid glory and bite,

I will eventually get up and go shovel the walk

Because the alternative is never going outside,

Or at least waiting till spring. Besides

Once I bundle up and start shoveling

I will acknowledge it’s not so bad.

I will begin to like it

And see the new year,

Arbitrary as the division actually is,

As an opportunity to begin anew.

I’ll come back in with a feeling of accomplishment,

Feeling I have started the new year off right.