In the tradition of opening a new year's log book with doggerel:
The minutes slide by in the encompassing dark
The ever turning glass thus to mark
The intervals made important by the minds of men
Yet no change in celestial sphere attains
Nor yields to mortal need nor ken
With calendars aid, and sky's motion
Do we time's passage reckon.
A glass raised to you one and all, for best fortunes ahead.