Some days it’s just hard to get out of bed. Each morning we confront our prosaic disappointments and life regrets again; these mix with global news of raging wildfires, impending hurricanes, and an ugly war on the other side of the world. The anguish of it all smothers us like a heavy blanket. Christina Rossetti, in her poem “The One Certainty,” colors such mornings “cold and twilight grey.” Rossetti describes the human condition as maudlin and arbitrary, like leaves carried randomly in the breeze: “Of wind, or like the grass that withereth, / Is man, tossed to and fro by hope and fear: / So little joy hath he, so little cheer, / Till all things end in the long dust of death.”