The tree is always beautiful,
the lights – magical, too.
Night comes on soon and stays for the magic.
Sitting close, we look into the branches, deep,
remembering as we do
those who are gone –
now for many years.
Quiet, we hear them whisper
as the ornaments swish along the needles:
sweet, sad music.
– Mary Elyn Bahlert, December, 2025
