26 December 2021

By Philip Kuepper

The tree, erect, standing
in the rowboat at anchor on the bay,
celebrates the year’s last days,
the days running like salmon run,
only up the ladder of time,
returning to where they had spawned
as seconds. They grew into minutes,
to mature as hours. And, now,
as days they begin, again,
by leaving their spawn
of seconds in the flow,
that will swim their way
to the vast ocean of space,
where they will grow
to timeliness, and turn
through the cycle of the year.
The days of the year are what
ornament the tree, erect.

(6 December 2021)