We consider hanging lights
on our ficus tree this year;
no children will be here --
they're over 30; they all work,
and Christmas comes
midweek. The pricetag on one Douglas fir
astounds us annually,
especially when, New Year's Day,
we toss it out,
long after it has dropped
its load of needles on our floor.
It seems we just packed
all the ornaments away and sang
the Wassail and God Rest Ye.
But Joy to the World, we sing
in the car on the way to the lot where
a scout troop is selling fir trees.
Pub Date: 12/17/96