We must risk delight . . .
We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness
in the ruthless furnace of this world.”
—Jack Gilbert

CHRISTMAS is closing in on us, but my heart is not quite there.  During my morning walk in a sunlit city park, it feels more like a “mourning “ walk as I attempt to fend off dire forebodings about the future of our country, our world, our planet. The Herods of the world seem to be taking control; a black curtain is descending and joy seems like a distant memory, a faraway feeling—possibly an inappropriate expression at such a serious time.  

But then, as I look ahead on the tree-studded path, my eye catches a twinkle of blue, red, and purple—a kind of glittering gladness pirouetting in the sun.  Shortly I find myself standing before a young, spiky, reed of a tree, on which some courageous soul has hung a rainbow of glass ornaments, which appear like jewels, electric in the sun. . .

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