In the New Year
A poem by Charlene Mossman

In the New Year

Praying for change,
Like rain.

Across tender fields of winter wheat
And naked orchards,
With sleeping stick branches like spider legs,
A swollen storm cloud breaks its water,
Sends silver sideways answers
On a thirsty city,
But not on mine.

Have I done enough?

I raise my hands to the flat, firm clouds.
Fate drifts overhead with half-closed eyes,
Bearing blessings in a basket downriver
To bump the baby on another doorstep.

I want to cross their cropped lawn,
Shake the pristine painted door.
How did you do it?
What did you pray for?
What did you sacrifice to earn the rain?

Maybe I will dive into the river and
Kick down to the blurry bottom,
Rip apart the web of waving weeds
And drag my blessing—
My future—
To the sun-glitter surface.

Maybe I don’t wait for change;
Maybe I make it.

About the Author:

Charlene Mossman is an author of magical adventure stories that illuminate truth with compassion. Between bursts of creativity, she escapes into video games, laces up her hiking boots, or jumps in her kayak. She lives in California, where she rents a room from her cat. Discover more of her work at her website, charlenemossman.com. 

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