I don’t know if you believe in blessings,
In your New Year’s one in particular.
But a new speaking has opened in me,
In verses the words keep coming out.

It is hard to hold back thoughts that matter,
They tear toward freedom, they hurry outside.
Impatient, hot, swift, skittish.
Where I stacked them, they no longer lie.

Sow, grain, MAYBE something will yield.
They sowed in me — I gathered into kernels.
And maybe fate will reward me too?
Maybe I too will lay it where I took it.