December. In the northern hemiphere, nights are cool to cold. Frost tinges brown grass reflecting moonlight as ice. Skies are clear, stars brighter. Often the constellations shine even through city lights. Darkness comes early; then, with the winter solstice the dark receeds.

Both hope and meloncholy fill the dark night air. Christmas lights, based on pagen rituals, throw red, green and blue shadows. The mystic hope of a mithras bull or of an infant in a barn puts light into the human soul. The darkness, just beyond the light, is darker because of the light.

Mystical, magical rituals and rites accomplished because of tradition. The Christmas tree comes from Germany and Martin Luther. The yule log from the Celts to keep the fire burning through the longest, coldest night. Presents come because the magi - wisemen or magicians - brought gifts to an infant. Presents come from Saint Nicolas who threw coins to children.

December, the ending of the year, brings its own sadness. Some look back at what was left undone. News shows list the famous dead. December becomes a recap of all the months before - for good or for bad.

December brings the hope of things yet done. The story of a Scrouge who learns the real meaning in three short hours. If Ebenezer can change and plan for the coming year, can not the rest of us try? So the question turns.

For some there is no future hope, only the pain of present darkness. Illness, death, debt lead deeper into that darkest of winter nights. For some December is just a month, without religion or care. For some it becomes the month to pay bills and taxes.

I would write "and yet" the nights are filled with light. I want the hope this season holds. Yet, I do not.

Such December hope is fragile at best. As the watery, winter sun melts the frost, so hope melts into revelets of dispair.

Is the dark December more pronounced because these eyes have seen more Decembers? Do children see the dark nights as magic? Each waiting for a reindeer or a gift in a shoe? The darkness is beyond measure the closer we go toward the final dark?

As this darkness deepens do we become more aware of our mortality? Do we use the rites and rituals to hold back that final darkness? Perhaps we do. Perhaps it has always been so.