the tree

my father pulled over
to the side of the road one
snowy December
and chopped a tree down
a mile from
the Mt. Vernon estate,
along the state park,
beside the Potomac river.
he'd been drinking for
most of the night.
he turned the headlights
out towards the dark woods,
then carried a small hatchet
out to a line of trees.
in no time he came back
dragging an eight foot
blue fir which he
jammed into the trunk
and off we went,
his eyes glazed
blue with what he'd done,
smiling.