Poem of the day

Acting Like a Tree

When I got to the party and saw everybody

walking around in Christmas costumes,

I remembered I was supposed to be wearing one, too.

Bending slightly, I held out my hands 

and waved them a little, wiggling my fingers.

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, making

a tree face, and started slowly hopping on one foot,

then the other, the way I imagine trees do

in the forest when they're not being watched.

Maybe people would take me for a hemlock,

or a tamarack. A little girl disguised as an elf

looked at me skeptically. Oh, come on!

her expression said. You call that acting like a tree?

Behind her I could see a guy in a reindeer suit

sitting down at the piano. As he hit the opening

chords of "Joy to the World" I closed my eyes

and tried again. This time I could feel the wind

struggling to lift my boughs, which were heavy 

with snow. I was clinging to a mountain crag

and could see over the tops of other trees a few late-

afternoon clouds and the thin red ribbon of a river.

I smelled more snow in the air. A gust or two whispered 

around my neck and face, but by now

all I could hear was the meditative creaking 

of this neighbor or that—and a moment later, farther off,

the faint but eager call of a wolf.

—Jonathan Aaron, New Yorker, Dec. 15, 2008