Day Thirty Nine: A Tree



No more mistletoe,
No more lights.
No more wrapping paper,
No more fights.

It is February and still
Christmas trees litter
The bin sheds nearby.

The trees were alive once,
Taken from their home
To celebrate a single day before
They were consigned to the rubbish bin.

This lonely Christmas tree said to me –

“I lived once,
My sweet pine scent,
Pungent yet aromatic,
Filled the festive scene
Of a house, and it’s hallways
down the street.

Uprooted, was I, a traditional amulet
Of a time gone by.”

The tree stopped and took a breath.

“I won’t comment on consumerism”
(I didn’t press the matter
– he was, after all, a tree)
“But capitalism’s snake like hips,
Danced a merry dance of needless waste
To and fro; generations of wanton needs.

But what do I know?
I am, after all, a tree.”

It’s pine cones still litter the streets.
Now brown or grey.
A sad sight, on a dark night,
Where the cold wind blew away,
The remains of this tree
Leaving it’s bones to stay.


One thought on “Day Thirty Nine: A Tree

  1. I liked your conversation with the tree! Could’ve read more of that conversation. (Or a whole soliloquy or poem just from the tree. I’m sure it’s been done, but you do have a way with words.)

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