It
was
always
Grandad's
responsibility
to choose the tree
the right size for the window
the right shape for the tinsel drapes
a healthy tree whose needles would not fall
to litter grandma's pristine parlour until twelfth night
and this year SHE had been chosen to help in this so important task
but there's so much to experience before they reach the stall at the furthest end
and so many assaults on the senses - to intoxicate with seasonal smells of spit roasts
fruit vendors' cries, enticing a purchase of apples, pears, clementines, brazil nuts in shells
the brass band strikes up and collection tins struggle to keep time with the Herald Angels singing
she skips at his side, bursting with anticipation, stringed mittens bouncing
for there , amongst the pine forest fragrance
stands the perfect
Christmas
T
R
E
E