Now is the season when the corpses of...

Now is the season when the corpses of theChristmas trees line the sidewalks of the city. Needled and not withoutdignity, they’ve been laid to rest on their sides by the trash bins, by thecurbs, stripped of lights, tinsel, strands of cranberries or popcorn, all the ornamentsin their yearly dangle. It is the new season now. The sky is low today, nostars tonight, the moon’s fullness felt behind a woolly blanket of cloud. Wemove into winter. A friend on the phone spoke of thinking gone was the onlygood option. Two days ago, another friend made me a mug of warmed milk with honey,turmeric, cinnamon, ginger. The color of pale egg yolk, it tasted like kindnessand my whole nervous system responded, melting and soothed. I haven’t takendown my small tree. Its final days are here, but I do love its glow.

[Painting: Skating by Linden Frederick.]