After Thanksgiving
When the Christmas tree
Was brought indoors; tall
Yet to be sawed and shaped
A second time, we filled
A galvanized tub rested
The cut end in water
And waited for limbs to settle.
That same tub we filled over
And over and dumped on the only
Flat place in the alley to make
An icy patch. The water
Flecked with needles.
When the tree was put in its
Red and green stand
Water was again poured
And sugar added to prolong its life
We never saw taken away.
I think now that the smell
Of apples and oranges
In the same room as the tree
Were its first ornaments.
The dim light above
Its first crowning star.
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