January

Just as the cherished tannenbaum has been shorn of its glory, it is soon waving its forelorn tinsel on the side of the road to indifferent motorists, maybe waving goodbye, goodbye to all of the things that made it beautiful once, and to never be again.
ANd all of the New Year’s Resolutions already broken, dissolved, or disregarded as nothing more than something you have to say but never have to do, the people of the world go on with their daily lives, discovering that the second day of the month is not much different than the first day of the month.
Uttering curses from muffled mouths against the frigid cold and winds, we hunker down in our scarves and down coats and ask why we have to go to work in conditions like this, never considering that there are others less fortunate who are quietly freezing to death for lack of what we take for granted.
And the Earth orbits the Sun, and babies are born and people are killed and the traffic is loud and the pollution is suffocating and a tree is cut down and a bird’s last egg didn’t hatch, and there is too much of something in the places it isn’t needed, and not enough of anything in the lands of the dying, and there is famine and war and two other horses canter through the world.
Ringing in the New Year is silver and gold and the champagne colored dreams of effervecence that joyfully bubbles to the top of long elegant glasses, all things are made new again, and the magic of it is inhaled and intoxicating.
Yet all too soon we realize that the New Year is nothing more than a month called January.

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