Alone I went, I went alone
to the rollicking Christmas tree farm;
the saw was sharp, sharp was the saw
that tucked itself under my arm –
I felled a tree, the tree now mine
and i cradled it there in the snow
men swaddled it tight with loops of twine
and i stood it up tall once at home –
the scissors were sharp, the tree held still –
stripped of bindings, her branches unfurled;
reaching out for all of the space in the room,
only now loosed upon this new world.
Halfway North 