The branches of our short Christmas tree are drooping. Low...

The branches of our short Christmas tree are drooping. Low hanging ornaments now rest on the floor. There’s a scatter of needles on the rug; a withered leaf of a poinsettia has fallen as well, its bold red having turned the color of dried blood. It’s a matter of water and time, but it’s hard not to think the tree has absorbed the atmosphere, is enacting the mood of this new year. The thought crosses my mind — maybe I’ll vacuum today — and it is somehow the saddest thought I’ve ever had.

[Old Pine Tree, Wen Zhengming, Chinese, 1470-1559]