Eileen the Fir Tree
I lean against the wire fence with my new friends. We whisper to one another the stories we've heard: stories of colored lights and ornaments, tinsel and candy canes. Strange and glorious things! A warm house with lots of children who think I'm wonderful! As we huddle together, people wander through in groups of twos and threes, speaking in clouds and stamping their feet -- the children scattering, then coming back, then scattering again like brightly colored birds. I lean out as far as I can, stretching my branches and willing the children to pick me, pick me! I may be missing all the action back in the forest but, oh! to go out in a brilliant blaze of lights and song!
Poem by Amy Sacha |