End to end January pledge to self,      
postcode to letter’s journey,        
left unread at doorstep

(Which in Italian cooking) small dumplings
made from potato, semolina, or flour,
usually served with a sauce
which chewy consistency
glommed in a huge bunch
after the wife microwaved them
yesterday with noodles,

to the x power with each passing year
yours truly bobbing in the time stream 
impossible mission to escape any weir

the current speeds up at breakneck tear

I beseech thee almighty with my prayer
where blink of eye feels akin to kiloyear

no doubt artificial intelligence will find 
a machine to stop and reverse engineer

Janus faced shiverer,

JUST A DAY

Right now, this is just a day, in mid January
Bright and sunny, but not considered warm
The breeze speaks with a bitterly cold voice
As if in this winter season, it has any choice
Yet the silence suggests an imminent storm
That the pale sun might see as an adversary

Empty fields, the occasional bird in the sky
As if the Earth were now bereft of mankind
But the icy breeze speaks again, in a whisper
Telling of how the air could be even crisper
Such that one new question comes to mind
And perhaps ask all the other seasons, why

Hester Prynne silently bore punishment

decreed courtesy strict
Puritan magistrates
and town fathers of Boston
that Hester Prynne
must wear the scarlet letter "A"

prominently displayed
on the breast of her gown,

specifically over her heart

for adultery and begetting

a child out of wedlock

Curiosity got the better part of me...,
(but no cat got killed

in the writing of this blurb)
regarding who decides
which people populate
the first daily AOL screen each day,
(or subsequent frames the viewers espy),
and thus the resultant outcome.

Red robin perching,          
camera in hand, now what,      
oops, twig “SNAPS” bird flies

finds me (a bonafide doggone 
muttering Homo sapien)
to give pause for reminiscences
and to take stock, lock and barrel
about mein kampf in general
and previous three hundred
and sixty five days in particular
assessing some laudable accomplishments,
where inside my mind I beam radiance
envisioning an imaginary hit parade
supporting the local bummers
singing Oh Dem Golden Slippers 
belted out coutesy local Mummers,
(who celebrate holidays, 
especially Christmas and New Year's)