January (Janus)

The watcher waits beneath a wintry sky
Until the midnight chimes are hushed and still.
And when their timely echoes fade and die
He bursts upon the scene with lightning skill.

His robe of flame ignites the wintry dark,
An introduction to his repertoire.
His crown, a bridge of light, a glowing arc,
His one night of the year to be a star.

This mystic god takes up his rightful place
Upon the stroke of midnight each New Year
He sends his fireworks cracking into space
To wish us Health and Happiness and Cheer.

But in the cold first morning of the year
When all his finery is put aside
He chooses hooded cloak and strong footwear
And takes the past and future in his stride.

Presiding over winter’s darkest hours,
He mediates between the new and old,
With peaceful portent, diplomatic powers
He dares to step across the year’s threshold.

He sees the summer trees now stripped and bare
Their branches bent beneath the weight of snow,
But second glance reveals a garden there,
A sunlit place where fruit and flowers will grow.
Just like a butterfly he has one day
Before the past and present slip away.