New Year’s Goals

I think my goals are pretty much the same as last year: eat less and write more. Although enjoying James is up there pretty high on the list, too.

I debated what to put up here–it’s been over a month, and missing the month of December marks a failure. Hopefully a minor one. In my defense, I was editing a manuscript for much of that month, and that kind of task┬ásort of saps my creativity. Great editors can edit creatively, but I’m not one of those. I’d rather be writing.

So here’s to some new ideas in the new year! I hope they’ll find their way onto this journal one way or another. Yeats found his apples of silver and gold, and I hope to stumble across some brass or copper ones, at least.

Happy New Year!

 

The Song of Wandering Aengus (1899)

By William Butler Yeats

 

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

 

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And someone called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

 

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.