o tidings of comfort and joy ... ?

There was nothing I could do
but I had to do something.
So I went downstairs
dug through the closet
for the papery branches of the tree.
The box was bigger than me
but I wrestled it up the stairs
reveling in the distraction of exhaustion.
I set it up, plugged it in,
paused
for a moment
to bask in brightly colored artificial light.
I place homemade ornaments,
the clicking of plastic
and beads and pipe cleaners
singing of Christmas-special-esque evenings
around the kitchen table.
The wire has fallen off this one.
I nestle it among the branches
(and with a glance at the creche)
pray it won't fall.

All true, for once. (now what?)