The Turning of the Year ©
Dalton in Furness, England
The turning of the Year, to some,
a time of hope and foresight.
The hope that Winterís on the wane,
and Spring-time beckons natureís gains.
Cold sleet, replaced by warmer rain.
Daylight stretched, constricting night.
The advent of Mother Natureís scouts,
poking through their bulbous snouts.
The walker, now has cause to stop,
to marvel upon, the first Snow-drop.
A herald of the joys to come.
As simple as these seem, to some.
A time for planning. For self-perusal?
When negativity deserves refusal.
If we don the blinkers of innocence,
our just rewards will recompense.
No wasted time, sat on the fence.
Believe that mountains, Faith may not move,
But believe in yourself. This year YOU can improve.
Each broken promise, each target missed.
Each temptation, you could not resist.
Each self-set goal, a bridge too far,
your careless aim, scooped over the bar.
Donít blame it on a nervous twitch.
At least you were on the pitch.
Take my last report cardís advice,
and follow it to the letter.
ďHasnít been the worst of years, but we both know,
you can do better.Ē