poem of the day December 19 

I am sitting

next to my perfect 

Christmas tree

watching

as the sun rises

over the ridge

of old christmas trees

Evergreens picked over

year after year because 

of their imperfections

Never having to have their lives

cut short and sacrificed

for a silly human tradition

The light shining through 

their treetops has reminded me

of wise humble men and women

content in their own imperfect skin

happy not to be concerned

with the shallow fleeting deadly 

misunderstood vanity of 

someone else's perfection