The wind played jingle bells
on the back of my neck
as I plodded, one foot
in front of the other
up the hill, around
the bend, along
the path to where
the grove of pines grew.

An illumination of light drove
me forward where I
imagined myself as being
closer to the North Star
than ever before.

Here the business of cutting
down one’s own Christmas
tree was like an interlocking
puzzle where everyone
ran in and out finding
their own piece of the pie.

Children gasped and yelled,
“This one! This one!”

Moms and Dads
yelled back,
“No, over here! Over here!”

Hot apple cider was served
by a man in a Santa Claus
suit who had an overabundance
of candy canes in his pocket
and a “Ho, Ho, Ho,”
for all who strode nearby.

I found my tree quickly,
sawed it down and dragged
it for purchase, whereby, I
met a couple with their three
young children heading
back down the hill.

They offered to carry
my tree down on their
toboggan. I accepted.

As we walked crisply along
the path, around the bend,
down the hill, plodding
one foot in front of the other,
the wind played jingle bells
on the front of our necks
as we all sang

Noel.

12/12/2006

Posted on 12/13/2006
Copyright © 2024 Kyle Anne Kish