New year.

Encantada, 2011. Welcomeness in high-backed and saluting attendance.

The first day of a new year. The burgeoning dawn and the lunar goodbye.

I made sad and fumbling missteps as I reached out for hands to lead me through 2010. I relied erroneously and pitifully on diagrams provided to me by souls more lost than me. I pulled over again, then again, on the sides of desultory and haphazard roads, resting my forehead against the steering wheel and wondering where it was I meant to have traveled. (These things, they happened always in the rain, and sometimes even in the sun. But always, always on days it rained.)

I will want more in 2011. And I will dredge the lakes and streams for thick, green bottles, where wiser maps reside.