The Christmas Tree

Christmas Tree
Christmas Tree

Christmas Tree

Dad parks his battered pick-up truck
By a far and distant field
We two imperfect soldiers
For the perfect cause
Take two axes to do the deed
Clad in work boots,
For the snow is freshly fallen
And the rain the day before
Makes the field as Agincourt

Trees in rows
Shielded from the road
Like the French advance on us
Or we on them.
Stooped with broken boughs,
These will never serve
To grace our home

On we march
We two imperfect soldiers
Trodding ever onward
For the perfect cause
With two trusty axes
Upon our shoulders

Deep within the woods we go
Far from city,
Far from crowds
Far from fields the farmer plows
To find a perfect tree
For our imperfect family

Some too young
Some too old,
Some quite solitary,
Tall and straight
With boughs of evergreen
I pause beneath a lovely one
To say, “This will do”
But dad replies,
“A lovelier one awaits”

Through the hours of the day
We walk and talk
Of this and that
Until our words
Slow to a trickle
Thus our thirst abates
And hunger grows

With each other
Each knows
The day is done
The time has come
To do the deed
And fell the tree
I look at dad,
He at me
In silence,
We agree

This lovely tree.

Were there
Ten thousand
Christmas trees
To face that day
Not a lovelier one
Could be found
To grace this place
We call home
To celebrate
Our imperfect family