after “Taking Down the Tree” by Jane Kenyon “...If it's darkness we're having, let it be extravagant.” We took down the tree packed it in its box swept up the plastic needles carefully stored the ornaments shelved the quiet holiday we’ve learned to make our own – mostly pagan and secular yet there are angels and carols – though the images and words burned deep in memory now hold no truths. We took down the tree coiled and stored the lights added another blanket to the bed welcomed juncos to the feeder pulled on hats and scarves while we wait for longer warmer days that come a minute at a time as the earth flings itself towards tomorrow. © Mary Lee Hahn, draft 2023
Marcie has this week’s Poetry Friday Roundup along with a fantastic text set to accompany her book about dormancy, WAIT, REST, PAUSE.
The image of the junco came from Unsplash.
A(nother) Year of Reading 
Mary Lee, You have touched my heart and my existence with these lines. You speak so eloquently about how life is in these times and in my winter. Thank you for the inspiration. 💚📚 ✏
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Submit that.
Wonderful, Mary Lee!
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What a lovely poem–you make me want to appreciate the chore of taking the the tree more than I usually dread the task.
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There is peace and comfort throughout your poem, Mary Lee. Thank you for this bit of warmth and light on a gloomy-gray winter day.
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I didn’t have a big tree this year and actually missed this ritual. It gives time in January to relish the memories from the ornaments & doodads I have kept all the years. Thanks for this special poem, Mary Lee, ready “as the earth flings itself/towards tomorrow.”
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Lovely, reflective poem, which in tone reminds me of Sara L. Holmes’s “The Bones of January.” I like “shelved the quiet holiday . . . ” and the sense of waiting for what’s next.
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Taking down the tree was intentional and meditative for me this year. I can relate to this line, “shelved the quiet holiday we’ve
learned to make our own” as we get older and our family is spread out. I love the gentle ending where we wait as “the earth flings itself
towards tomorrow.”
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So evocative, and I looked up Jane Kenyon’s and read hers too!
Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
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Wow. “though the images and words
burned deep in memory
now hold no truths.”
And your ending! This is lovely, Mary Lee.
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I can see every moment of this and the truth of “mostly pagan and secular
yet there are angels and carols” hits home. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
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Mary Lee, thanks for your comment on my blog post and find delight in your post, mentor text, and your own poem rooted in reality. The season is over, yet memories will remain, as “earth flings itself/towards tomorrow. I read your poem over and over and do love it as is.
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Mary Lee, what a beautiful piece — there is a sense of cultivated and treasured ritual along with the waiting game that January becomes. Lovely!
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Wow! I love the endings of both yours and Jane’s poems.
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Lovely images, Mary Lee – our tree is actually still up over in the house in the Upstate (where we’re moving permanently); we’d intended to take it down in early January but car troubles kept us from getting over there as planned! I’ve been once since, but it was such a crazy quick unloading trip, I only managed to get wreaths and bows from the outside stashed on the inside. I love the way you present a “chore” as an activity with intention. Happy New Year, and Happy Lunar New Year!
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I found the metaphor resonant, Mary Lee:
“…though the images and words
burned deep in memory
now hold no truths.
We took down the tree…”
Set against the long winter days, these words strike deeply.
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This is beautiful, Mary Lee, and I especially love your ending lines.
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As others I also love these ending lines,
“as the earth flings itself
towards tomorrow.”
And that wait for those “longer warmer days” feels like an eternity, for I’m already waiting on spring, thanks Mary Lee!
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What a stunning last line, Mary Lee. And I love the appearance of the juncos in this poem.
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