10-9…Whoa,
slow down, relax. You’re getting ahead of yourself. It’s not time. It’s coming, soon enough.
Meanwhile, It’s still shuffling the deck, more hands to deal. The 2021 year’s
game is still in play.
We
shouted it in, but it soon settled down,
And
got down to business and stayed.
But
now it’s time and cards are worn thin,
Only
one last hand to play.
It came with a quest and trailing behind
Its
pomp and fire gone stale.
Where
once the lust of days before
Are
now but a vapid tale.
We all take our spots at the table of life
While
the Dealer shuffles the deck.
When
done he says, “It’s time to deal,
Ante
up and quit looking back.”
A spirit passes before our face,
The
hair of our flesh stands up.
The
clock of years long gone before,
Like
cards that brought us luck.
His fingers are nimble, his cards are alive,
They
glow with a luminous light.
One
up, four down, you have no choice,
You
get what the deck dishes out.
Your
hope is mocked by the upturned card,
The
Dealer has a mischievous grin.
You
curse the draw, but the card must be played,
The
deuce, one helluva way to begin.
But begin we must. We bring with each new year remnants of the past,
stuffed full like bags of discarded Christmas wrappings that were once disguised
surprises. Instead, like a sponge, we infuse them. It’s hard to get rid of the
past.
There
once was love that lured life on,
A
kiss that shook the earth.
Where
is it now, a vanished dream,
The
ghost of an ephemeral birth.
We
played the cards the Dealer passed,
Some
won and others lost.
The
drama of the days gone by
The
passion we miss the most.
6-5… Not yet. Relax. Ah, the sorrows
and joys of life, the loss and the gain, the pain and the pleasure. A blend
into the mosaic of ourselves. It’s who we are, for better or worse. But to
labor on either is futile, for the Dealer continues to deal.
Regrets,
Oh, yes, we’ve had those, too,
Sometimes
too many to bear.
But
like an echo in the caverns below,
They
fade in the vaporous air.
Longfellow’s
words, neither bagpipe nor dirge,
To
frame it he takes no sides.
For
Defeat may be victory in clever disguise,
And
the ebb is the turn of the tides.
4-3 …Back off the counting. Too soon. Start over. Miles left to
go. Patience, pilgrim, patience. It’s been a doozy of a year. Pandemics,
political acrimony, threats abroad and violence at home. How do we play such a
hand? Color me red, or color me blue, define my gender, my ‘fair share,’ too. All,
works in progress.
The
end is in sight, this game almost done,
There’s
not much more we can do.
A
little rest, micro-seconds at best,
And
we’re ready to begin anew.
We
played our hands the best we could,
We
gave ‘em our very best shot.
No
matter if we won or lost,
We
always got part of the pot.
We
cheered the year in, we’ll cheer it out,
We
endured it to the end.
It’s
age and breath at last worn out,
It
leaves us to begin again.
2…Too
close for comfort. Let’s deal the last hand, play it for all we’re worth, singing
words from Robert Herrick:
“Gather
ye rosebuds while you may,
Old
time is still a flying.
The
same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow
will be dying.”
And
now we hear the distant band,
It’s
tuning up to play,
For
auld lang syne is close at hand
To
celebrate the day.
I’m leaving the ‘1’ for you…you’ll know just when to shout it.
Here’s wishing you a Happy New Year. May you get some aces in this new year, 2022. Time is short. Live big.
Bud Hearn
December
31, 2021
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