Picking the Perfect Christmas Tree
The snow decked woods was ours that day,
and all that grew was part of our Christmas bounty,
We skated skateless on the frozen forest floor,
pulled armloads of running cedar, baskets full of holly
and mistletoe, and bagged fresh boughs of aromatic pine,
Each year the same reminder: “We are here to find a tree.”
There were evergreens of all kinds
and if we’d had our druthers, we’d have harvested
one of each, but one was the limit
and we didn’t have all day, though each year the sun
was fading by the time we’d made our pick..
We craned our necks; it was quite a stretch
to see the pines that grew so tall,
but they were mostly on the spindly side,
not cultivated for their shape nor hue.
Often times the cedars, lacy and full branched
would catch our eye. Pine or cedar, its bottom
was much too fat to use it all; we trimmed away
a bit to mix with holly leaves and pine cones,
wreathes for gifts and for our own front door.
There really had never been so fine a tree.
By now, our mittens were wet, our fingers frozen,
but the sled piled high with greenery
proved that the best things in life are truly free.
Just before sunset we headed home,
happy with our perfect Christmas tree.