When the mountain town opened for business
its annual walk-through Christmas display
for the holiday bustlers to come bustling through -
you and I,
resplendent in sweaters
nog in hand
- were first in line.
At the start of the long, long park,
we stood; behind the green garland rope.
Ready to ooh and ahh,
not in the slightest bit ironically.
When they took the rope away,
we rushed forward in an ecstatic scramble:
oohing and aahing.
Well, the needles and leaves of the evergreen trees
were bedecked in arrays of electric eyes
and we ran hand-in-hand, gaily
so far ahead, so far, away far
ahead of the crowd.
Away out of sight, we ran ahead -
looking all around ourselves, like
children explorers, with mouths open.
We were the first to reach the Giant Tree.
Among its boughs, certainly dead, hung motionless
in a puffy quilted navy-blue coat,
a white-and-green snowman scarf.
He was smiling.
Tangled, suspended in the cords of electric lights,
among the decorations, his job
well done now forever.
You looked at me,
And I stooped down,
to lift a shiny red christmas ball
from where it had fallen in the snow.
You hooked it
onto the exposed elastic edge
of his white athletic sock
and we giggled, but
the mood had already been ruined