Once I was proud to be a tree
In a distant mountain neighborhood
Where all my stately brothers stood
To strum the wind in harmony.
There every night was holy night,
There stars looked down with tender face
In testament of heaven's grace
On a hidden realm where all is bright.
But if Yuletide joy on a bough must dangle
With tinseled blobs and powder frost
And jingle-bells, not all is lost.
I will bend my pride and wear a bangle.
(First published in Along the Lane: Dedicated to the memory of Thomas William Larsen, who lost his life in World War II)
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