The aged bird may be a darkling
Signing out with auld lange syne
Not darling with new year hope,
Just signing out the old window.
Dreams are made of its last year.
A day’s end had weakening eyes
Lighted by pharmaceutical tears
A winter of malcontent , a poem.
An aged bird that is not darkling,
A snow white beard old and wise,
Quivers with quaint wintry poem
In frosted words of an evensong.
(remembering Thomas Hardy’s new year poem The Darkling Thrush)