It is customary in the maritime services (Coast Guard and Navy) to write a rhyming entry in the logbook for midnight on New Year’s Eve instead of the usual matter-of-fact prose account. In that tradition, I offer this verse:

The tide table tells me what this cloudy sky will not:
full moon overhead on New Year’s Eve.
The wind is not talking either,
mute like these clouds that refuse to leave,
but the river speaks of the moon,
shore ice cracking with the the tidal heave.