January's Resolution

January's Resolution

I wake with a start,
            the horizon ablaze.
                        Outside, sixty degrees:

sky, an elusive gold.
            I brush through brambles,
                        remember summer's

prickles, the relief
            from rubbing berry
                        leaves into wounds.

The yard fills
            with imaginary weeds:
                        Lamb's quarters.

Pokeberries, wild onion.
            Through a raised window,
                        a kettle whistles.

Tea's remedy:
            violets steeping
                        on the stove.

I can't ask for more:
            soil energizing
                        roots of clover,

goldenrod—
            all that green and gold
                        preparing to return

as wayward growth:
            unbridled as last June's
                        stars feasting

on a sickle moon,
            dandelion fields
                        and me.