If joy and hopeful expectation lead up to Christmas, there's a certain melancholy that comes with the end of the season. This poem by Jane Kenyon captures some of that with a look at the memories that come with packing away the decorations for another year.
Taking Down the Tree
By Jane Kenyon
'Give me some light!' cries Hamlet's
uncle midway through the murder
of Gonzago. 'Light! Light!' cry scattering
courtesans. Here, as in Denmark,
it's dark at four, and even the moon
shines with only half a heart.
The ornaments go down into the box:
the silver spaniel, My Darling
on its collar, from Mother's childhood
in Illinois; the balsa jumping jack
my brother and I fought over,
pulling limb from limb. Mother
drew it together again with thread
while I watched, feeling depraved
at the age of ten.
With something more than caution
I handle them, and the lights, with their
tin star-shaped reflectors, brought along
from house to house, their pasteboard
toy suitcases increasingly flimsy.
Tick, tick, the desiccated needles drop.
By suppertime all that remains is the scent
of balsam fir. If it's darkness
we're having, let it be extravagant.
More thoughts tomorrow.
Bilbo
Very apt sentiment for taking down the Christmas tree. Now for the too-long wait for spring, less daylight, cold weather. Time to feed the birds and snuggle in. And be grateful when spring comes.
ReplyDeleteNice sentiment in the poem.
ReplyDeleteAfter Christmas is a bittersweet time of the year.
ReplyDeleteJanuary and February, the doldrums of the northern hemisphere. Unless you're in your basement on the computer and have no idea if it's light or dark outside.
ReplyDeleteI long for the days of spring.
ReplyDeleteIt is extravagant darkness here.
ReplyDelete