Christ climbed down
from his bare Tree this year
and ran away to where
there were no rootless Christmas trees
hung with candycanes and breakable stars.
Christ climbed down
from his bare Tree this year
and ran away to where
there were no gilded Christmas trees
and no tinsel Christmas trees
and no pink plastic Christmas trees
and no gold Christmas trees
and no black Christmas trees
and no powderblack Christmas trees
hung with electric candles
and encircled by tin electric trains
and clever cornball relatives.
Christ climbed down
from his bare Tree this year
and ran away to where
no Bing Crosby carollers
groaned of a tight Christmas
and where no Radio City angels
iceskated wingless
thru a winter wonderland
into a jingle bell heaven
daily at 8.30
with Midnight Mass matinees
Christ climbed down
from his bare Tree this year
and softly stole away into
some anonymous soul
he waits again an unimaginable
and impossible Immaculate Reconception
the very craziest of Second Comings.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti