Sunday, January 19, 2014

  Oh Christmas Tree

Softly falls the snow around you,
as you struggle not to care,
that walkers let their dogs assault you
with legs akimbo in the air.

You wait beside the drifted curb
for the truck that comes around,
with squealing brakes that will disturb
the house's slumber with their sound.

But who will watch as you are lifted
heavenward to meet the end,
as are the others, now snow-drifted
supine and brittle on the ground?

Oh Christmas tree who threw the light
across the faces of the young,
Remember joy, the happy night,
when Christmas carols were happily sung.

Oh Christmas tree who patiently
graced the season of hope and love,
remember hands who carefully
placed the angel high above.

Remember green. The sun that shone,
above you in your forest home . .
and in that home that fades from sight . . .

You were the star that lit the night.

Cathy. Wilson


Rev. Paul said...

What a lovely poem! You're a talented lady, Lady. :)

Jonna said...

Sappy, but a worthy subject!

threecollie said...

Poor tree! Love the dog part. lol. As our mutual friend Paul said, you are very talented!

Anonymous said...

Actually, I don't think it is sappy at all.
It is a lovely poem that speaks of just one of the many brief moments in life that are always over too quickly...

Cathy said...

Rev. Paul . . .
Thank you. I accept your appraisal as I know you are a man of great heart and honest temperament :)

Jonna . . Ah, yes, my friend . . . the perils of tipping beyond the 'lump-in-the-throat' into the moat of 'Boo-hoo and chewing the scenery." :-D

Marianne . . Thank you . . and yes! The dog thing just splattered onto the page!

Anonymous. Well aren't you sweet. I tried to capture a sense of relinquishing - with as much grace and gratitude as possible - the fleeting passages of life.
Whooooo are you, please?

Cathy said...

Anonymous . .

To me . . . perhaps the most poignant stanza in poetry . . the last - in Robert Frost's "Reluctance" :

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?