Lonely Christmas Tree

The lonely Christmas tree

with blurry colored lights of whimsical windings

gleaming from depths of blue-green


Gone are the brightly-colored presents

with their metallic bows and tissue-paper explosions

The goods have been plundered

the paper folded 

Only glitter and fake snow remain

tasseled and silent


The crowning star leans to the left

the slight pull of gravity has worked

slowly, slowly


A red elf hangs carelessly on the lowest branch

A ballerina kicks out her leg ferociously awaiting attention

Shimmering globes mirror into infinity


No one ooohh and ahhhs at its magnificence anymore

They brush past it as if a minor annoyance

the harbinger of January’s austerity and pragmatism

where the wind blows through