perfectly imperfect

i keep the tree

near

bare this year.

a bent trunk,

with a bellied shape.

some sort of spruce

i imagine,

the man at the lot

wasn't clear. i

circle the lights around

then carefully thread

tinsel on

the branches, a live

sparrow suddenly

pops out.

i continue on.

i scatter old ornaments

from earlier

years. it's perfectly

imperfect.

i put a star on top.

then plug it in.

then on comes dean

and frank

and bing.

then back comes

the bird,

flying home.