When Trees Were Real
Once upon a time
When yuletide trees were real
Dragged scented and dripping
Through doorways too narrow
And placed in rooms too low-ceilinged
To accommodate both tallest branches
And a star.
Boxes of birds nest lights
And broken ornaments
Too much loved to cast away
Spilled from closets, attics and garages.
Tinsel, tinsel everywhere
A silver-draped season graced with scents
Of heady pine and candle wax,
Hissing crackling birds in roasting pans
Overflowing with savoury stuffing,
Potatoes, onions, carrots
All nestled and sizzling beside
A pan of golden yorkshire puddings
Rising in majestic tectonic grace.
And rum and carrot cake
A gauze-wrapped ball on the boil
Awaiting the golden blanket
Of caramel sauce.
Giddy with excitement.
Counting days that pass
With agonizing slowness.
Always snow on Christmas
A virgin blanket laid by gentle hands
On fence posts and treetops
Spread on lawns awaiting the first print
Of angel wings and rotund shapes
With carrot noses and coal. lump eyes.
It was always so.
As seasons rolled on and on.
School days that never ended.
They dragged through pageants,
Paper chains and hand-print cards.
Who will play Joseph and who Mary?
The beautiful ones.
The popular ones.
The rest assigned to shepherd roles
And the lesser angels or magi.
No matter.
Tears of pride welled in parent’s eyes.
No matter.
Their children shone
As the star above the stable
And the story unfolded.
No matter.
A stutter, a stumble,
No matter.
All beauty, grace and innocence.
And in every house, that special room
Off limits to prying eyes
Cloaked in secrecy and voices hushed.
Great mysteries took place within
Then vanished in the twinkling of a
Christmas morning.
Santa’s knee allowed the exchange.
Of whispered secrets and desires.
Gayly coloured cards began to arrive
From aunts and uncles,
Vague faces and unfamiliar scents
Arriving all at once and toasting strange glasses
Forbidden to the children that crowded around,
That clinked together with increasing vigor
And hearty good wishes.
Even for the grumpy old uncle.
And we all knew he was the softest teddy bear of all.
And a great silver dollar rose above the trees
Making field and forest dance for joy.
As the night deepened
Stars winked into being through frosted glass.
And little eyes began to close.
Despite the promise of tomorrow’s dawning.
Finally hushed voices slipped from the room of secrets.
Then the telltale squeak of that door.
To the forbidden realm.
Of boxes and paper, ribbons and bows.
And enigmatic tags that read
“To: You and You and You.
From: ???”
Opened and closed.
Opened and closed.
Arms filled with bundled secrets soon made known.
The swish of slippers and rustle of paper.
Sounds unheard to sleeping ears.
The new day dawns.
Christmas is here.
It has always been so.