Turning the Year

The new year arrives,
not to replace,
but to make whole
what the old year left undone,
what time could not hold,
what slips quietly away.

The days tilt forward,
casting off the weight of shadows,
each hour a thread
pulled taut against the horizon,
binding what was
to what will be.

Beneath the stretch of stars,
clocks unspool their rhythm,
and winds gather murmurs,
from roads that end,
from roads that begin again.

Every door stands open,
every path awaits
to be carried forward,
while the old year,
folding into itself,
becomes the memory of change.