Spinning Straw Into Gold

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holly grantham -spinning straw into gold-3

These last few days
of the year
hang a little jagged.
They are hemming in a collection
of words and doings and dreams and
dust
and there are
loose
threads
about.

There is much that I want
to forget.
So many crystalline words and
hasty decisions and all that
revisionist history and
tunnel vision,
not to mention
all the ways that I tried
to
walk
away.

Yet there were also
days that bloomed wide open
as a peony
all lush and soft and full.
Or others,
that burned like embers,
keeping a forgotten fire
alive.
And then there was that
one day
that turned every other day
on
its
head.

I’m sitting here, curious.
I’m not really that good with
my hands.
Yet, somehow,
I feel the need to
gather up these strands
and weave them into
what
is
coming.

That’s the glory of a new year,
I suppose.
Taking all that has been and
using it for what
could be.
What a lovely thing to take hold of.
As that clock chimes twelve of
the longest notes ever,
we suddenly become magical and
spin so much
straw
into
gold.

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