In the land of pink flamingoes I saw a blue aluminum Christmas tree
Perched upon a tiled roof over a stuccoed home
A couple of days ago, hours really, Iíd left behind
A dark and cold and snow gripped clime
For tropical warmth and sand and silver sea foam
Palm fronds fluttering in buttery breezes
Golden sun glittering on aquamarine seas
Where, to my northern eyes appeared this synthetic obscenity
Christmas trees are evergreen, this is known by everyone
Luminous stars limn its limbs, as in Lutherís Weinnacht vision
A fetch from feral forest tamed and gladly clad,
In popcorn strings and angel hair and gingerbread
A cheerful sight against winter night
With wassail cup by hearth so bright
Outside, total immersion in snow globe inversion
As with a furious shake, with flurries and flakes
The snow is falling, a mantle of silence it brings
Inside peppermints and cocoa are calling
As cheerfully carols we sing
Christmas is wintery, wrapped in white
Ribboned with crimson and piney green
Holly, fir, mistletoe, and candlelight
Because, well, thatís the way itís always been
But wait, as the warm wind whistles past my open window,
A thought intrudes, and in me broods, not too fast, best go slow
Think this through, this tree of blue,
Is it so wrong, an off-key song?
I try to remember, was it really December
The unknown date we now celebrate?
Did pine forests flourish on those dry Judean hills
And shepherds huddle against winter chills
While watching their flocks by night?
And were sleigh bells jingling amid camels mingling
While the Magi roasted chestnuts on open fires?
Were scarves and mittens warming angelic choirs
In Bethlehem that fateful night
When the world was born again?
Is that truly how itís always been?
There is a gift we were given
On a night in Bethlehem
An offering later laid upon a tree
By which we are forgiven
And put right with Elohim
And from which we now love free
All the rest is tinsel and wrapping paper
Mirth and merriment, frolic and caper,
Marshmallow froth and holiday cheer
Childhood memories we hold so dear
Traditions are fine when they donít confine
Reflecting the divine, they wonít define
So, whether by sparkling aluminum or scent of pine
Snow covered roofs tracked with reindeer hooves
Or over the eaves, blue aluminum trees
We celebrate this gift,
His tree of death, our tree of life,
Ever green, ever bright
For unto us a Son is given
For unto us a Savior is born
O Christmas Day, O Glorious Morn
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