We like these woods the best in snow.

We’re brought here by the season though,

to cut our family Christmas tree.

Which one is right, the kids will know.

They run the rows, the better to see

atop which pine our star should be–

“It’s this one! This one! This one here!”

–until on one we all agree.

We linger in these woods so dear

to feel the warmth of Christmas cheer,

and then our silent oath declare

to this tradition we revere.

The woods feel like a living prayer,

but there’s a feast we must prepare,

…. and hours of love that we must share.

…. And hours of love that we must share.