THE TREE TOPPER
– A Bedtime Story
It was an angel --- not a flying reindeer ---
descending comet-like toward the earth
at great speed,
dipping over the midnight rooftops
in a spasm of wingbeats, down a chimney
and into the shadows of the house,
resting at last in the spiky branches
of a decorated tree, breathing there
among the metallic bells and ceramic apples,
nesting beside the doves of crystal,
such a tiny thing, and yet her presence
completed the festive ensemble. She sacrificed
a life in heaven to be a Christmas ornament
and a sign to the household, an icon of hope,
a yearly reminder of that first Noel,
earning her a special place at the very top
of the tree, this emmisary angel
in her cottonball gown with the golden sprinkles,
blowing her silent trumpet,
looking very much the way the sun does
when it rises over the newfallen snow,
when the whole earth seems to wear a halo.
By Lisa Lindsey
Michael D.
We always have an angel at the top of the tree, by the way. After all, the angels were there when Jesus was born. . . they want to be at every celebration, too.
This poem is beautiful, and transcends the usual Christmas poem in giving us another glimpse into the starry skies and their inhabitants.
In other words, it is beautiful!
Never stop writing!
Love,
Connie
Ron
Regis