At Great Wolf Lodge most every year
I’ve watched the children come;
With smiles alight like Jingle-Sprites,
Cheeks sparkly sugarplums.
They shriek aloud with Christmas cheer,
Parents close behind,
Who steel their spirits for the wear
That starts with waterslides.
Snowflakes hang from every branch
In plastic canopy –
Fairy lights dangle streams above –
Merry carols ring.
My lodge is bright and festive,
Stuffed wolves topped with hats –
And once the children tucker out
Out spring plush mascots.
They tell a tale of presents
Delivered by Saint Nick,
And then fly snowflakes born of soap
To play a hopeful trick.
These children in their PJs
Dance and sing and jive
Until they’re borne to bed,
Content to be alive.
‘Tis all commercial sham,
But there’s a kiddish charm
Hung with pawprint holly
False icicles fast disarm.
But then the Lodge is twilight
And there’s no one else about
But those stuffed wolves on the mantle
Grinning at trash all o’er the ground.
I commence my nightly duties
Of cleaning up this mess
Left in joyous jubilation
By season-punch-drunk guests.
Alone, I sweep the garbage
Through these hollow, hopeless halls –
Christmas tunes of times gone by
Echo faint against the walls.
But another noise rises here
Past the quiet peaceful den –
A kind of clearing of the throat
Before it might begin.
“Happy Christmas there, old friend,”
A voice harks, sad of mirth,
“Does this Eve find you at peace
As Harmony finds Earth?”
I jolt about in just alarm;
Three o’clock, all in dreams,
Though I wonder I’m not with them
As the voice comes from this scene –
A furnace blazes in the dim,
Next to a towering pine –
But a tree it’s not, just metal frame,
Empty, plain, a fleshless spine.
It’s been that way for many Eves,
And I miss its glorious gown.
But there’s no way to bring it back –
The voice, its courage found:
“I’ve watched you work for twenty years
When the holidays come ‘round…
Though I confess I’m somewhat meek
I now must make a sound.
Your earnest heart has touched me
Down to my coremost ring,
And all my branches are a-flutter
Seeing Christmastime kept clean.
Yet, I fear the Christmas Spirit
Has left your sincere soul,
So I offer you my services
In hopes to make it whole.”
The voice, I finally realize,
Is that tow’ring Christmas Pine
Who darkens up the dim,
A vague shadow of repine.
“And I’ve admired you,
Oh Tannenbaum, you cheery sight
To behold every Christmas Eve
Was a privilege and delight.
But your splendor has far faded,
And your green has gone astray –
Your lights, evaporated,
And ornaments, rolled away.”
The Tree was racked with sighs
And groaned a stiff reply,
“I see it’s reached your notice
How my image yearly dries.
Nostalgia is the water
That keeps my fir coat bright,
But it wears away, my Holiday –
Schisms make it trite.
Schisms ‘tween the mind
And sentimental heart,
Schisms ‘tween the family
Whenever patience smarts.
Schisms ‘tween beliefs
And the hatred they ignite,
Schisms ‘tween the gifts
And charity made light.
Schisms ‘tween remembrance
And the image shattered now,
Schisms ‘tween a mighty tree
And my withered, wired bough…”
My companion trails into the night
As if longing for the past –
Left me thinking on Christmases
Not fit to my caste.
It seems to go with time, I thought,
This cheery Christmas season.
Or perhaps no one to share it with
Is my remorseful reason?
“And yet,” the Christmas Tree exclaims,
Its tone infinitely kind,
“A Schism is so easily bridged
When the gap’s all in your mind.
Don’t let your Christmas Spirit spoil
When what’s before you’s not ideal;
It’s up to your love for the Season
To make your dreams feel real.
The weak in Spirit stay unmoved
By what is doomed at start –
The strong in Spirit find the joy
That’s sometimes spread apart.
So keep that flame of hope alive
As you hold Christmas dear!
The time will be more precious
Than if dismissed as faith unclear.”
I feel the power of a smile
Radiating warmth,
And knew the Tree’s words to be sure
By the Star’s light from the North.
That light shone through a window
And lit upon the pine –
Now bedecked in silver tinsel
And ornaments divine!
Its baubles brightened up the lobby –
Shadows reached the loft –
Chills waltzed through the spiral doors
And rustled needles soft…
I can see its golden ruffles!
I can see its starry crown!
Oh, how merry those strong branches
Wave scarlet streamers down!
Glitter rains from high above
That grand gleaming Yule Pine
To settle sprightly on my brow
And make the world seem fine.
I laughed, by God, I laughed!
Those mem’ries flooded back
Of Christmas on the carpet
With presents in their stack
Under fond familiar faces
Of family, neighbors, friends,
Throughout my years of Christmas cheer
That never seemed to end
Around a marvelous Christmas Tree
Like the Lodge’s, but still my own,
With a sparkling ethereal aura
That remained though I had grown.
Until I lost my way somehow –
But that matters no more
As my heart regains its footing
And my thoughts commence to soar.
I hear the Tree then sweetly sing
About the First Noel
Until the hour of six chimes on
And lifts its Christmas spell.
Christmas Morning! The kids awake
With presents from their rooms –
No nostalgia, no painful tears,
No regretful moans and gloom.
I see the drawn-tight faces
Of veterans like myself
Who lost their Christmas Spirit,
Discarded on the shelf.
They hope for Christmas mem’ries
Like the ones they’ve seen before –
But who can expect what’s happened?
It will only leave them sore.
Your Christmas Pine stands hollow still
When grown from year-old sight;
Deck it with your blessings new!
In hopeful cheer, there’s might!
Morning's Early Dark 