"O Tannenbaum," by Sylvia Vanderburgh

7 days ago

1 min read

Musings on a Christmas tree and the emptiness of external decorations when they inauthentically convey the unseen reality.

Red, green, gold, and blue

Twinkle in frosted-window dew

Corn older than Mom — that’s pretty old —

Graces a bough with Iowa gold.

Green paper chain from four-year-old hands --

Neither now nor then could I understand

That tiny red trucks bearing freshly chopped trees

Just aren’t enough to set this house free.

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