A number to contain the days,

As we hurriedly move on to more.

The past two thousand are in us all,

Each storm, killing, hope, loss, war,

Each flower, family, child, mentor, friend,

Along with music, hype, noise, joy or chore,

Each choice of worry and word

Of respect or contempt

Is not gone

But part of us

Along with our

Affluence, poverty, greed, waste, sham,

Our food, drink, broken dreams and hearts.

We’re cheered by trees, birds, sun, clouds and air,

Cats, dogs, deeds, art, books and love

Collected in the years of sense and nonsense

We have known. May we be hopeful,