Oh how I remember that very bleak December
when the street was so cold and the wind whipped
howling all around us while we shivered and sang
“Oh Holy Night” for the few pieces of silver that
were put into our beggars little box at our
very cold feet.
Clothed very lightly from Salvation giving’s,
our mitts were sewn, our scarves so thin, and
coat’s patched over so many times it was a sin.
We huddled very closely as we slowly walked
towards the tree lot, hoping there to find what
our hearts yearned for, a tall and graceful tree,
to lay on our old sleigh that we had carefully
pulled along the icy and cold bitter streets.
The lot was full of pine needles, the smell was
bliss to us kids, we wanted the tallest and the
thickest one on this lot, but not to be so,
as the little we had barely brought with us
bought what we towed back to our lodgings
in bitter wind and blowing snow.
We laid it ever gently on the living room floor
to thaw and release all the ice-covered thickly
to its bough, and heavy burdened branches
ever so small, hoping that life would breathe
back what we needed to decorate, and stand
it tall in our bit of space against the wall.
To our surprise this broken and battered little
tree awoke such spirit in us, and with thanks
we all were blessed to have it at all.
We cried out in happiness, for sorrow we
had far too much to bare, for this one
instance we set sorrow free to go elsewhere.
With homemade trimmings, popcorn, paper
cutouts and small little lights, we decorated
this blessed tree with all of our might. Oh how
we laughed and danced around it, with delight
even though it was in need of more lights.
It didn’t seem to matter; it felt tall and proud
to be picked by us poor children on that fitful,
cold bitter night. Thank you children for
choosing me, for this night we both were filled
with a joyous and thankful spirit, and so I say
to all, Merry Christmas and too all a good night.
Vincent Moore 2013