They’re too young for this to be their last
Christmas tree, I thought. Yet
Look how much they charge for this
Noble fir
That’s going to dry out and be trashed
In a few weeks. Every year we line
Some merchant’s pockets, set the tree
In a stand, decorate the damn thing
Then take it out to be chipped for compost
At the Castle Hill neighborhood park.
Maybe this year we’ll finally go to church
To remind our children what it’s really
About. I worry that they’ll soon discard
Jesus as easily as Santa, chip both ideals
To compost; fertilize a post modern cynicism.
In too few years, they might look into the rear
View mirror as Christmas recedes
Into their childhood’ leaving Santa,
God and
Me behind. No tree costs
Too much to delay that for another year.
No comments:
Post a Comment