No tree this year; no room in any case,
But I, who’d have to clean the needles up,
For one am grateful. Advent—ending—wanes;
The wooden manger scene stays in its box
Until the Christmas season has begun,
While the more fragile, finer, metal one
Will likely stay securely stored away
Until next year at least—again, no room.
Presents are bought, and wrapped, and set aside
Until the season comes, and they are given.
But, amid all this busyness and mess,
Let us not now forget our purpose here;
Let not “all be made ready” but ourselves;
And let us not neglect—may he forbid—
Him whom we, giving gifts, shall imitate.
For is he not both Giver, Gift, and Lord?
I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, to have a seasonally-apropos poem for today, though the first few lines had been turning over in my head for some time before then.
As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can also read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with yesterday’s archive installment, since the the full archive is by now, at over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know which poems you think are my best.
This poem is also posted on my wiki.