I wanted to toast to you all
growing near me in the still night
ice surrounding our attempts
at living in safety
safety is in your arms
safety is in the walls between 1st and third
sandy and alder
where the wind follows us down
the way of sculptures
i wrap myself in the folds of your words
and toast to the beginning of a new year

i wanted to toast to you all
it could be that when our glasses touched
our eyes would
glimpse the soul of the last year–
the first day of the future that holds
the inkwell
keeps the paths of red and black ink
moving without spilling.

the cries of birds
without capture
and the pry of moonlight
when no one’s looking.