My Christmas tree was the silent silhouette
of a living redwood thirty stories tall
etched against a silken moonstone haze
that hovered just beyond the canopy
My Christmas star was a double-rainbow moon
settled full above her topmost twig
halos gathered round her shaggy crest
like an omen to the new year nearing fast
My Christmas carols were faintly murmured chants
offered to the stars by giant pines
as I threaded through the darkness past their robes
breathing in their many whispered prayers
My Christmas gifts were solitude and peace
the company and touch of hidden angels
a sense of ease and comfort in the woods
a conversation with the hallowed stars
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