I pass time as the new year's first hours unfold. I have done all the dishes,
And dinner's been planned. The weather's not lousy. It's sunny, but cold.
Since I haven't a reason to face it, I don't. The year's number's different,
But, otherwise, nothing appears to have changed. Though the chatter I

Hear claims there's hope for the future, I know there isn't. The same

Malign forces which sullied past years weigh on this one already.

There's nothing to do except cover one's head and find ways to pass time

As this year without promise unfolds.