Happy New Year!/ Islands and Figs by Jack Gilbert

Not a New Year's poem per se, but it does speak of endings.

Islands and Figs

The sky
on and on,
stone.
The Mediterranean
down the cliff,
stone.
These fields,
rock.
Dead weeds
everywhere.
And the weight
of sun.
In the weeds
an old woman
lifting off
snails.
Near
two trees
of ripe figs.
The heart
never fits
the journey.
Always
one ends
first.


Photo note: That's an olive tree not a fig tree. You can see it for yourself: http://www.astragreece.com/writing.html