NEW YEAR: 2004
at Jamestown California
All our winters have taken us here,
the road uphill to the Palm Victorian.
In the stained glass room
an oil lamp flickers the promise of light.
Absent is your day planner and my loud pager.
So sweet, the last shaving of dark chocolate on our lips.
We draw the coverlet that warms us,
and in sleep heave cloudy memories back,
launch new dreams, wish the year to take us
some place we haven’t been.
The first snow wakes us up, its breath like ours
in the chill full of whispers.
Wrapped by early morning we burrow deep,
until from outside,
a jaybird in the madrone
begins his hoarse song.
by Lara Gularte, copyright 2017
First published at “Manzanita: Poetry and Prose of the Mother Lode and Sierra.”