A pleasant surprise to receive this poem in my email inbox on New Year's day from the Saskatchewan Book Award winning poet Dave Margoshes. I think it properly captures the held-breath sobriety of the day; our aims, the goals we set for the New Year, and the feelings of hopefulness mixed with uncertainty at that moment when the midnight clock's hand is about to strike.
A stopped clock
The spiraling ball hovers in the plangent air,
a bullet misdirected. It could go either way,
straight to its true mark, or as far wide
as all the error we are capable of, all
the weight of our hopes skewing its course.
Win or lose is beyond the point, each winner
harbouring a loss within, each loser right
at least once. Tomorrow country, they call it
tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
all our tomorrows spiraling just out of reach,
a ball sinking at last to a confounding certainty.
Wishing us all brighter tomorrows