It was July..
needles had fallen to the floor
from his Christmas tree..
It was festooned with spiders..
but the lights still
blinked on and off
in his evening windows..
and to passersby
gave a strange cheer
As above his unkempt clothes
And beneath his kindest eyes
his smile.. an effortless
act of universal cheer..
was enough to enkindle
the fires of hope
in a lonely passerby.
******************
(to unusually sensitive, conscious, kind John Scott Wegener)
(May the deforesting practice of killing formerly sentient Christmas trees inside
be replaced with the decoration of those on the lawn..
or the use of nondead trees)
(Joel 10)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem