Rain through the night and deep puddles on the walk with the dogs before six a.m. NYD seems to be the true holiday as only two cars out and no lights on in houses. As always a siren out on the highway as we passed that way but, again, few trucks or cars.
Reminded a bit of the second of Rexroth’s new year poems.
Fifty
Rainy slkies, misty mountains,
The old year ended in storms.
The new year starts the same way.
All day, from far out at sea,
Long winged birds soared in the
Rushing sky. Midnight breaks with
Driving clouds and plunging moon,
Rare vasts of endless stars.
My fiftieth year has come.
Years earlier, Rexroth wrote,
The New Year
for Helen
I walk on the cold mountain above the city
Through the black eucalyptus plantation.
Only a few of the million lights
Penetrate the leaves and the dripping fog.
I remember the wintery stars
In the bare branches of the maples,
In the branches of the chestnuts that are gone.
east of the fog 