The Christmas Tree
I just love the Christmas tree which we welcome into our homes,
Symbolising nature, the natural, challenging our views and roams;
Settling in our cosy living rooms, the empire of many, each of us,
Independent, not asking for anything: assistance, change or fuss.
The Christmas fir tree came from Denmark, from Christians there,
From Hans-Christian Andersen in a short story in which he did care,
About children and their thoughts of growing up and finding Christianity:
He pertained that process to the growth of the majestic fir tree, big and lusty.
But I in my childhood related the tree to evolution, its process and sway,
Said that I derive from it something steady, living and quite happy;
I just ignored the original drive of Andersen’s The Fir-Tree,
For my own accepting arms for nature which accepted me.
Evolution never possesses, but awaits eternally for recognition,
Of itself, that relative, that descendant relation of honour and attribution,
It gives the right the speak and not just about itself, but about anything,
And marries a therapist in its act of anticipation, actively caring.
Evolution includes everyone, excludes none whatsoever, none at all,
The whole fluctuates by those who fall, the ordinary and the tall;
Every day behaviour ultimately affects genes which are passed on in time,
So importance is bestowed upon all, saving each one from the dumb mime.
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