New Year’s Day

New Year’s Day
and I will start afresh
as caterpillars are molting.

I will establish order in my sock 
and underwear drawers
and the drawer of 
scrambled kitchen utensils.

And it would not be the New Year
if I didn’t clean the refrigerator,
pitch the stuff we’ve no idea
how or when it got there. 

And all the while, caterpillars are molting
as I disinfect my mouse and handles 
and switches throughout the house and 
thereby dodge the flu. I shall go to the gym
and will take better care of my aging brain.

And while I labor to hold back time,
worms with no to-do list begin 
their reinvention—molting, spinning 
the magic crucible, dissolving
the crawler, soon to try new wings.

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Margaret Van Every
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