Immersed in shaft of January sunlight,

I open last year’s journal to reflect

on what’s gone before.

I pull used tissue from pocket,

and with breath through nose

tiny particles of tissue

explode. White fireworks

dance in slant of sun

in which I sit,

rise, fall, float, whirl.

I’m mesmerized, enchanted, blown away

by the mystery

of what has gone before—

cries, longings, and yes,

celebrations well-worthy of fireworks—

and what is yet to come.

The old blown away with a whoosh

to dance, twirl, tango

in Sunlight,

somehow coalescing, yet

making room for the new.

Peace falls,

Praise rises,

for the beauty of the dance

God weaves from it all


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