This Moment: December 30, 2010 8:06 A.M.

The Universe's great bully Saturn is flexing his muscles this morning. I for one am tired of his jabs and blows. Snow covers the leaf-laden ground and the view from my window is sterile, frozen, cold. The tiger has one more day to roar its ownership of this pick and shovel year until the rabbit seizes his throne. I am a tiger, a dreaded girl child born under this sign in the early morning hours: restless, searching, always looking to pounce. The winds of yesterday forgotten, a branch nods lazily in the harsh air. The man I live with, his mother, her heart and lungs have forsaken her. This woman beat the deprivations of world depression, six wars, and yet, as always, we humans lose the battle with ourselves, no matter how valiant, how wise, how noble. It is always a matter of time. The living, the hale, arrogant and secure in their bodies, continue on. There is no other course. A dun-colored bird flies into my neighbors apple tree. Rusted orange leaves the sole survivors of another season.