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A Family Tradition
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Over The Years Days before Christmas
In the dark forest
Our whole family gathers here
Then we all separate and scatter about
We are all looking and searching
For the perfect tree
Tall but not too tall
Green, thick and lushes
Thin but not too thin
Qualities we need for our perfect tree
There it stands
Among the others
But distinctly alone
I yell for father and the ax
Here comes father
Carrying his ax
The ax is long for chopping
It is shiny and sharp
Dad pulls it up above his shoulder
As the ax comes down
It digs easily through the tender bark
There is only one sound in the forest
It is the chopping of the ax
Chop, chop, chop, chop
As it echoes through the forest
Then there is a groan and the tree falls
Everyone lets out a cheer of joy
Then as we all help carry the tree
I smell the scent of pine
The scent brings back old memories
The memories of the past Christmases
Of the other searches
Of the other finds
And the glory of our family tradition
