New Year’s Baby
written by: Debra Elramey
In the winter womb of quiet,
after the first spring moon
and the building of evening fire,
I was composed
Arranged like beads on a string,
half of you, half of him
contained in my genes – a necklace
of stanzas and verse.
In the blood current streams
it is tranquil, and sounds
of invisible things whisper
in my shadowy world.
There’s a sacred song being
sung to the beat of your heart
as your fingers flow
in peaceful motion.
Eternity begins.
With a chorus of soothing voices
I am ushered in, glazed in silvery red.
The old year is now dead, and the new
one and I are crowded together.
I live in a yellow house built in 1919, surrounded by a wild English garden where cats – much to my dismay – pee on my trailing gardenia and turn a few evergreen leaves yellow too. Still, all cats are welcome in the rescue mission this desert mama runs. Inside my yellow house I write and pray and dream and watch wonders unfold every day.
Latest posts by Debra Elramey (see all)
- New Year’s Baby - January 1, 2026
- Train Ride - October 12, 2025
- The Color of Heaven - July 27, 2025
