I made three meals a day
And walked the dog twice a day
Sometimes on the path behind
The shed, where the pile of old
Christmas trees live.
How funny they look now,
With their branches held out
Waiting for someone to notice
The unbroken, blue ornament
Stuck to a lower branch
And the paper loop from a hand-made garland
Now faded to pink.
The dog has her nose down
She has long since stopped paying
Attention to the trees
And their bending ways.
I release her, letting her run
To the creek and back, while I search
For ornaments and fire wood.
The return climb to the house
Has us both panting and I rush
Her through the door, because
I am sure the phone is ringing, ringing
With you at the other end.
But it’s a false alarm-the kind of ring
You hear from the TV in the next room
Or the neighbor who always has his window
Open even in winter
I put the rescued ornament on this year’s tree,
I choose a center branch right in front.
I don’t want to miss it again.
