We are baubles on a tree
as eclectic as can be
sharing time and bending branches
hanging on and taking chances
delicately we deck the year
with brilliant colours, life and cheer.
Each of us has their own story
sadness, love, success and glory
old and new, each orb is precious
countless special shiny treasures.
Beautiful diversity –
bless and keep our Christmas tree.
This tree does not grow straight
but arcs and bends
honouring its earthly pact
Likewise, lives are not line props
not linear answers or roads of crow
Rather, we are shaped to wend and roll
haywire, globose, melding and merging
doubling back to blend and kneed
We are guardians of an eccentric past
seasoned by inaccuracies
rendered imperfectly real
by our inconsistent insistence
If we continue to sway this way
by the time we reach a round return to here
I will be knotted and gnarled
you may be old, softened or rotten
But we are not arrows shot by a bow
destined to forsake our roots
so we will likely cross again
I understand that now.