A lighted tree
but plastic, artificial
without colored ornaments
no angel at the top
the room seems barren
lacking fireplace and creche
no figures of the holy family
or peaceful beasts around the manger
underneath the tree no presents
and no children laughing
running through the house
perhaps it is this absence
that has summoned up the ghosts
the memories long set aside
that now come floating up
bringing rich images of times when we
with all our senses felt the wonder
the excitement of a holiday
at once deeply profane
and deeply sacred
(though of course we lacked that language)
when the house was guarded
by an angel gazing down
from high up in a tree
whose needles filled the room with fragrance
when surrounded by grandparents, parents
siblings, uncles, aunts and cousins
we sang Christmas songs and watched
eachother open presents
sucked on pink and white-striped candy canes
and knew that we were loved
and that we loved our home
and everyone within the circle
of our family and
even if the presents we'd received
weren't everything we'd hoped for
there was so much to feel good about
and no cause to complain