The First Sound Of The New Year..... Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is a family tradition
to sleep early on the night
of December 30
and then in the silence of
the night
we shall try to listen to
the first sound of the animal
that manifests itself on that
critical hour,

and then our grandfather would
tell us, what kind of year will
it be for the next.

it could be hunger or abundance,
it could be trouble or peace or
it could be safe or dangerous.

i know for now it is not possible.
there are no more owls, no more buffaloes,
no more cows, or pigs, or goats.

this is the new city of old and broken
dreams, and if i sleep early, i may hear
the sound of the firetruck,
or the police car, or the ambulance.

ambulance mostly, i am not mistaken.
but i wish to hear, the first sound of rain.
or just plain wind, or just the
sound of the air conditioning, in this
ever closed room.