Poem for the New Year

The Year's Awakening 

By Thomas Hardy 

How do you know that the pilgrim track

Along the belting zodiac

Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds

Is traced by now to the Fishes’ bounds

And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud

Have wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,

And never as yet a tinct of spring

Has shown in the Earth’s apparelling;

     O vespering bird, how do you know,

          How do you know?

How do you know, deep underground,

Hid in your bed from sight and sound,

Without a turn in temperature,

With weather life can scarce endure,

That light has won a fraction’s strength,

And day put on some moments’ length,

Whereof in merest rote will come,

Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;

     O crocus root, how do you know,

          How do you know?

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I had a fairly quiet final day of 2024. Paul worked half a day, so I did chores in the morning, then we ate lunch while watching Michigan beat Alabama. In the afternoon, we did some shopping (I bought two dresses to wear for wedding events, plus two pairs of extremely discounted Kohl's holiday pyjamas and a sweater). I got home late for my usual Tuesday night call, but since only three of us were there, we didn't watch Voyager, just chatted for a while. 

Cheryl and I watched Star Wars: Skeleton Crew, which had even more plot holes than previous weeks (what kind of pirate planet demolishes working ships instead of selling them or stripping them for parts?) but is still fun Goonies in Space. Then Paul and I got in the mood for the Rankin-Bass Tolkien movies, so we put on The Hobbit, which is always better than I expect. Now people are shooting off fireworks across the lake, though it's not midnight yet!