Sydney, New Year’s Eve

Feet lick the middle of the street

and drips click in glee

now the downpour’s done.

Dashes from the terrace,

with the red door,

she, towards

the pops and crackles

of the night’s, everyone’s, splendour.

She stops on the pavement

at the upper end

of the in-between park.

Her gaze —

beyond the burgeoning bins –

full of Christmas olds, unwanteds –

through the smell of warm, damp earth,

through the weeping gums silhouette,

and passed the city Tetris lines

Before they flash and disappear into points

The city like bejewelled children’s blocks charcoaled.

Beyond this

they asterix.

Hold their light like a ballerina,

for a time suspend, slow motion

finally they lurch and painfully dissipate —

we grasp with our eyes

and ache for more.

Her heart skips, breath,

in happy familiar.

Wet feet are no nevermind

as these bursts at the end

of her new street,

from the terrace with the red door

confirm;

this was a good year

the year to come home

to the home of the first main

sky fire dance of the hopeful globe

Seeing this again, from here:

It was a necessity.