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compost (a new year's poem)



i've been thinking about composting.
about how what we've used - and left unused -
helps to make new things to use and enjoy. 
i fill the ground with coffee grounds and missed bits of broccoli,
and next year it will all help me experience the wonder of fresh cucumbers and carrots.

it's a miracle.

as i sit here at this carrefour of years,
where old and new meet to diverge,
i think about how all the yesterdays i can see over my shoulder
are helping to grow all those tomorrows on the horizon.
i fill the past with a few significant moments, but mostly mistakes and mundane moments,
and somehow, it all helps me experience the wonder of new joys. 

it's a miracle. 

and while i wait here at the dawn of this new year,
for cucumbers and consequential moments,
i think of one more magnificent wonder:
between all the buried fertilizing pasts
and the unborn, latent futures,
lies this particular moment,
full of life and spirit and beating hearts and unspoken prayers. 

it's a miracle. 
happy new year. 

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