Happy Year Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The wild beauty is coming in clear new
With ravines winter's territory
The aflame of frosty fires to see
Majesty of coldness that comes through
The moment's going to a year that is gone
Devoured with many of its walking life
Railways to forgetfulness pathways done
From its childhood to the old did it strife

Happy year I say to those who answer
A new is born soon to give more ages
Weight upon its fresh on coming bearing
To be in colors of each tidings wear
That growth and aspiring to each wages
With many of its old ways and flaring