That was the year the cuckoos decided to build their own nests for a change
and then hung around afterwards to enjoy the rewards of good parenting. 
It was the year spiders outlawed post-coital cannibalism
and the year slugs grew sick of lettuce.
It was the year the fox cavorted shamelessly with the rabbit
and the year we annoyed the bullies by giving them long, sweet, sticky kisses.
It was the year all sex offenders were taught to crochet, and found it to be
an effective method of sublimation.
It was the year we found what had been lost in translation. (It was hilarious!)
It was the year the madman left the White House and set sail for a desert island
with the Bible, the Qur’an and the complete works of Shakespeare.
It was the year the blood stain turned out to be tomato ketchup.
It was the year neither of us died.
It was the year we were swept off our feet by unexpected moments of irrational joy.
It was the year of great, glad tidings.
It was the year we promised we’d remember always.
Do you remember?

Annie Fisher

If you have any thoughts on this poem, 
Annie Fisher would be pleased to hear them.