Instead of gravity, a New Year full of Mayle's alchemy,  as light as lashes. A whole New Year full of gliding over  snow crystals,  slipping into sequins, of dipping into petals and clear waters, silken seams and the blue of cloudless skies.
A new window opening on days  
lush with new lines and volumes and raspberry hues,
fully, infinitely You.

Square but wild. Boxy like a Donald Judd table,
exuding minimalist peacefulness. Striking yet humble.
Contradictory as you are. Get ready to tumble.
See cinnamon moons wander 
and  rise and rise, and in between a bird fluttering 
like in an Aztec bedtime fable. This year is a whole new story...