The Perfect Tree Poem by Bill Galvin

The folks in the cut-your-own-tree field are all on the same mission.

They walk the planted rows of green balsams and scotch pines
Looking for that perfect tree.
The one with the symmetry, with the fully-defined branches.
This one looks good, but it may be too short;
That one is the right size, but it's a bit spindly over there.
Let's remember this one here and come back to it
If we don't find a better one.

Like in the greeting card department, it's the same thing.

In front of rows and columns of colorful holiday cards,
They scan, and then pick one or another to read the verse.
Sometimes the scene is right, but the words ring hollow.
They pick this one up,
Then put it back with hopes the right one is over there.

He turns to the stranger next to him,
After they've swapped places a couple of times
While scanning, selecting, reading, replacing…
He says, "This is just like looking for the perfect tree."
Then he adds, "The one we end up with will be the right one,
And will become that perfect card we were looking for."
"So true, " she nods.

And the Christmas tree does become part of us…
A part of the family, of the home…
And any flaws are covered with lights and ornaments;
The bare or flat spot is placed against the wall,
And it warms up the room the way we expect it to.

There is no perfect tree…

But there always will be a tree that is perfect for us.