Marking the New Year

December's blue moon still hung heavy in the sky
as the first moments of the new year played out:
a child's plinking out high notes on a piano
or is it ice-encrusted branches in the wind?
The moments, ripe with all the plausibilities
of new beginnings, stretched out
into the moon-gilded night.
We threw snowballs at the icicles
hanging from the trees, giggling like manic children
as the ice crashed and skittered on the snow.
We held hands as we chased our dog down
snowy streets, unplowed but for the footprints
we left behind to mark the night.
Returning.
The front entry now littered
with wet mittens, snowy jackets and soggy sneakers
seeping winter into the new carpet
as inky blue
as the night sky.
Hot chocolate with mountains of whipped cream
warms as much as the newly built fire-
flames
reflecting in your eyes; refracted
in the ornaments on the tree.
The dog begs for marshmallows-
wet paws prancing, footprint tattoos mark your shirt.
The three of us snuggle into the night
quietly seeking our tomorrow.