I dreamt the new year came to you
before it came to me. It came to you
in orchids and fire. It came to me
in silence, and snow. How suddenly
the earth turns, the message changes
from dark to light. Bats hang quiet
in their caves. The barn owls stir.
Fog seeps between the mountains
into this high valley where I sleep
and dream of strange flying machines
and benevolent monsters. Are you
waking now? Are there orchids?
Is there fire?