New Year

Last time in my gravel garden this year. The wind is blowing clouds, branches, seagulls to stir the grey, and the dark, damp leaves are starting to dry. I like the wind. It brings new things and disturbs the old. What will it bring this new year that is waiting in the East to come and claim its glory? It is good not to know, to be excited not by plans and concrete happenings but by possibilities, by the creative forces beyond our control that will weave their magic in their own way. Come, wind, I will breathe you in, I will open my wings to your power and fly.