One Small Light

I have a lot of Christmas lights. All in boxes in storage. Something prevents me from going to that place. Too many reminders of times past, too much ''stuff" to deal with, too cold at this time of year and too hot in the summer. But this year I decided to buy some small evergreens and red berried shrubs and plant them with winter pansies. In the middle, I placed an antique metal lantern that would house a candle. My deck is high up but seen by those below and I feel that somehow a "living light" might inspire someone else  as well as me. I light my candle every night when the darkness falls and as the night goes on, look at its tiny flickering light and feel hope. Things in the world can't be that bad. This small light is out there in the cold protected only by  a sheet of glass and metal bracing but it shines on even though no one may notice it. I think the moon last night as it came up yellow/gray behind the far mountains to the east  saw my single light. The two had something  in common moreso than the LEDs and the sparkling, plying lights of all the decks bedecked vieing around the townhouse circle. Their shinings were a gentle promise of something human and mysterious and very old.  The moon and the small candle smiled at each other- at least I thought I caught them at it. I remembered a Christmas long ago in New Mexico, where houses in and of the desert were surrounded by brown paper bags, candles glowing inside, their flames dancing in the warm winds while desert sand in the bottoms of the bags kept them steady. These lights were alive and well and spoke of  a season that heals. All it takes is one small light.