Weâ€™re back, where we began,
Or near enough, cosmologically speaking.
A time, to mark occasion,
Has arrived, if weâ€™re chronology-keeping.
Once more, into those breeches,
We squeeze ourselves, though weâ€™re more upholstered.
Physical bounds, of less concern,
Minds are freed, imagination bolstered.
Summer fruit, has full ripened,
Now we savour, with palates educated.
Onward head, firmly stride,
Goals in sight, though route be undulated.
Futureâ€™s ours, and past is too,
Weâ€™re the centre, of our own creation.
Heavens spin, on axis true,
Every day, is our lifeâ€™s celebration.