I hate taking down Christmas trees. It seems, for some reason, like an admission of defeat, even if it must be done sometime. The latest I've ever left a Christmas tree up was Valentine's Day. The City of Chicago doesn't tarry so. Usually in the second week of January, workers start taking it down. Last week, I walked past Daley Plaza, where our city tree stands, and saw the sight below.
In Daley Plaza a
small complement of
sweating city workers
are busy dissecting
the mammoth municipal
Christmas tree which
isn't really a single
tree at all but a
whole grove of deep
green pines bround
together and covered
with color and pretty
noise to for a tall
shiny strap-on for
Chi-Town to splinter
itself with straight
through the birthday
of God's only son into
the blinding New Year.
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