…which is A Christmas Tree, which I think somehow cheapens the whole thing by making it some trite, pallid God metaphor.
A Christmas Tree
by William Burford
if you are
A love compassionate,
You will walk with us this year.
We face a glacial distance, who are here
At your feet.
I like the personification of the astronomical body, the begging of warmth across the chill of space, the abject genuflection of the insignificant people [who are so insignificant that they can’t buy another vowel for "Huddld"]. It’s a desperate and rather hopeless plea.