The reason for the season

 (on death, and maybe rebirth)

have you ever seen

the christmas trees get delivered

in new york city?

the trees that are festively

propped against A-frames

and grace our streets with the soft scent of fir

so we are transported away

from the urine-soaked sidewalk

to our decorated childhood living rooms of Decembers past?

well,

the trees are piled high in the back of a flatbed

bound and gagged, 

they are dragged from the truck,

and tossed brutally to the cement

in a flurry and tinkling 

of shedding needles.

tis a brutal scene to behold.  

but, lo, fear not

for it is just a tree.

it took only twenty years to grow

two decades of sun, seasons, and birds' nests

before it was swiftly felled.

and, lo, fear not

for the scent of fir will fill the air anew

when Michael,

the friendly gardener in Fort Greene Park,

spreads freshly chipped pine mulch

over the flower beds 

in the spring

and, again, we will be transported.