Christmas decorations are arising in the stores,
ready to do battle for the custom of the hordes
of children and their parents who arrive all glad and jolly,
but leave in tears much later, tempers thorned like Christmas holly.
Why is it that we start this fight so early in November?
The day they’re getting ready for occurs in late December.
Of course there are two sides to this, and one of them’s religious;
the other side is secular, its ancient roots, prodigious.
Duality’s not novelty: even criminals go to church;
and avarice makes angels of kids and keeps them from being worse.
And of course the stores need money, and to make it, build the hype
’til just about everyone’s green with greed and red as a screaming tyke.
In just about every tourist town there’s a Christmas store all year:
a trap in red and green and gold for every buck that’s near.
And if you really wanted to, you could shop a year ahead:
just hit the stores on Boxing Day until your credit’s dead.
Oh, why do we do this every year? It’s really so upsetting:
the kids want this, the kids want that— their emphasis is getting.
If only there were some other way to prove the world’s not ending,
but colder winds and shorter days, are apocalyptic tending,
and the need for lights and laughter is certainly worth defending.
Laughter and lights in the land of night are certainly worth extending.