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Tonight we sit ‘round ye ol’ Christmas tree,
But not the tree of yesterday or yester year you see.
Lights shine from the bole and tips so free.
We do not sit on stools or bended knee,
Nay, we sit on floating bubbles filled with glee.
Tonight we sit ‘round on Christmas eve.

Each branch and each stem hollow and clear,
With glorious colors rushing from there to here.
Self-driven instruments give us reasons to cheer,
While grandad is grinning from ear to ear.
The world is at peace; today leaves us no fear,
No one looks to tomorrow, no matter how near.

History’s Christmas gifts once sat down below,
But today they fly high, and are able to flow.
Their covers like metal adorned with a glass bow,
And brilliant tints that shine, leaving the ceiling aglow.
The children stare at the presents wanting to know,
How presents arrived when Santa’s is yet to show.

The Misses and Meemaw dawn matching shirts,
Both steady in the kitchen hydrating desserts.
The rehydrator jingles several festive alerts,
“Supper is ready”, sang like a Christmas concert.
Papa gripes at the boys “Someone’s gone git hurt.”
The boys outside giggle and play in the dirt.

Time to set the table, a task easy and quick,
With just a command a table rises from the thick.
Soon from the thin came golden chairs of glass brick,
Chairs light as air, glistening, and ever so slick.
Plates soon filled the table, candles lit by the wick,
By the snap of a finger the flames came like magic.

So we have all gathered round in the most merry mood,
In awe of what has been hydrated and brewd.
We grasp the utensils that are glistening and blued,
As we will be ready to eat and prayer will conclude.
I apologize for the inconvenience, or if I seem shrewd,
But this conversation is over, it’s time to eat food.




A Futuristic Christmas 12/10/2015
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