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Happy New Year.
I have been trying to be succinct all day. To formulate new resolutions as that is my yearly custom. Or to reflect on this last year—well, you know what that has been like. To feel some inspiration. To engage some new or renewed energy for a noble task.
At least, I think that is what I’ve been trying to do on and off all day.
But nothing comes. Instead, I scribble, starting down one path, following it awhile until it peters out. And then I turn to chase another path and do the same. Nothing sticks.
And so,
Holiday lights and the Christmas tree are still a blaze. I am still enchanted by the tree—crowded with decorations shimmering in light by night. Admittedly during the day, I cannot help by see the tips of branches turn downwards and the angel on top has become crooked. I don’t know which look is true, or maybe I should say that it is hard to hold both images in my head—the wilting fading greenery with crooked angel and the fairy lit confection—and know that it is the same tree.
I make resolutions.