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  • Writer's picturePeg Larkin

Oh, Christmas Tree

We trudged out to a farm

Growing trees like corn

And claimed you,

With a pink plastic ribbon

Fluttering high, like a flag,

To warn away the birds

Who would have nestled

Within your branches.

Heaving you

Into the old van,

We hoisted you,

Straining and then straight,

Into the stand.

Wrapped you in

Tangled strands of colored lights.

Hanging all our homespun memories,

The relics of every Christmas past

Sleeping under tissue

Since last year.

You shivered and bowed

Heavy with our humanity

And with the memory of your own life,

Clinging, like the sap still

Coursing through your limbs.

And the silvery night sky

The place of birdsong and soft winds

Swirling just outside the window,

Called to you,

Tapping on the pane.

You sighed, and stretched

As your tinsel crown

Teetered high.

And then you leaned

Like an old habit,

Hovering, just a bit

Toward home.


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