Peel Park. New Year’s Eve

By the lake the footprint snow 

cracking as if bird bones. 

A rat argues with a goose. 

Who wouldn’t tick this time of day?

And I think of the decade long year.

Its hope and then its death.

Of the Cob murdered by men.

His Pen heartbroken, lost in love.

Eggs abandoned, Cygnets only dreamt. 

A rusted spring, a barbed wire summer.

And I think of us three laughing. 

Our Magpies of shining gifts.

A little wildflower garden.

Our essays and our teaching.

Encouragement, our victories.

Your unknown, unbearable pain.

My autumn Crows returning.