We Cannot Reach the Cold Night Stars

So we make our own,
dragging in a black night
from the forest,
a shaggy tree
trailing needles and melting snow,
propping up
its whole dislocated self
in a dish of warm water,
standing on ladders
like small gods dressing the heavens,
draping, poking, placing
the stiff bulb-studded wires
branch by branch.

When the small
tree-galaxy is complete,
each light twinkling
peace and safety
into the dark corners
of the universe
under each
snow-groaning roof,
we descend our ladders,
the corners of our winter hearts
dancing
just a little,
like cave walls in torchlight.

Image: Christmas Lights by Jenny Downing, on Flickr, used via a Creative Commons License.

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