The joy of christmas

Evergreen pines like strong cedars,
collect the snow and hang...
white scarecrows in the distant hills
swaying with the brease...

fog merges in their presence,
making sight and beauty hard.
but living are their roots and trunk,
buried beneath the path..

Their lives are seen in concentric rings,
but only death will tell...
out this window they are seen,
living now but for how long?

Christmas comes and christmas goes,
death now for these pines.
and they stand up with glitter light,
cheap human cheer they feed.

but what of life what of nature,
all forgotten cast aside?
a dreamers song sings to their stumps,
their roots rot in the ground.