How to eulogize a year, a thing
made of nothing
and full of everything?

To speak the whole of it–
every glancing light
every mark of darkness–

and bear witness
one last time
before it fades.

I sit in the closing light
of this, the last day,
and wait

for the mountains,
silent in their snow,
to speak. They know.

The rivers, carrying the snow
in their stone throats,

The many-petaled gladiolas
gathered at many graves,

How to say thank you
and goodbye, good riddance
and wait! all at once.



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