Here’s to Old Year past, with all its doom and gloom.
Let’s sweep out its remnants with a brand new broom
And bury old troubles in a tightly sealed tomb.
The new days of 2010 have begun to loom
As they begin to fly from Future’s womb
With a resounding swish and echoing vroom.
It helps little to look back in anger, and fume,
But complacency and denial lurks in my room.
Even as I’ve avoided the swine flu’s rheum,
I worry about the next coal-fired smoke plume,
And all that needless junk we rush to consume.
I wonder if the progressive ideas of Hume
Can still guide us, as a prescient groom?
Should we bet on all those experts to whom
We‘ve left our tomorrows? No, I presume
It’s better to let a thousand flowers bloom,
And hope our blue planet doesn’t go kaboom.