The Calling

It’s that time of year when you hear a lot about New Year's resolutions. It's that time of year when you see many people hit the ground running with this “New Year, New Me” mindset. It’s also the time of year when you get sick on the first day and have yet to “hit the ground running” with all of this. That’s not just me, right? I wrote a little something to wet your whistle. Welcome to the first Friday Fiction of 2025.

Before I get to this poem, I want to thank you again, dear readers, for reading this blog of mine over the past 12 months. Even if you haven’t told me outright that you have, I appreciate anyone taking time out of their busy lives to read something of mine. Last year was very much up and down with the consistency of the blog. Thanks for sticking with me.

The poem is called The Calling. I wrote it in the early hours of New Year's Day. Emotions are high on New Year’s Eve—both good and bad emotions. In the almost 30 that I have experienced, I can safely say that I have a lot of gratitude when the clock strikes midnight. That might be my word for the year. Here is the poem. Thank you for reading and thank you for your time.

The Calling

The New Year bell has towed

I’ve reminded my friend

Of his likeness to a lady part

The bells are ringing in my head

Not only for the reason you assume

But it’s time to go dry

It’s time to actually try

It’s time to keep up the running

Until the 30 candles make their way

It’s time to answer that call

But first

I have to pick up the phone.