stay the dance
I often feel that as we dance through life,
we rarely know the source of the music
that drives our feet,
that moves us to move, to choose,
that pushes us this way, or that,
I sit next to our new Christmas tree
and marvel at its pungent fullness,
its sense of contrariness to the loss of leaves outside,
to the fall of needles from the pines,
to the diminution of light,
we bring a balsam, a Fraser fir, into the house,
and it laughs at death and resignation,
some of our cousins sleep through the dark and cold,
we humans, however, stay active, and working,
we heat and light the boxes we live in,
yet what can move us this season is the ancient tradition
of a cut evergreen, dazzled with ornaments and lights,
each Christmas tree challenges us to fully live
and to deny the call of the dark to quit the dance.
by Henry H. Walker
December 6, ’15
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