Xmas Over

[eridani]

The young fir in the back of the car
was silent, didn't admire the scenery,
took up residence without comment
in the high field near the old apple,
trading a two-foot pot for the Columbia Gorge.

When the wind came up, the branches
said Ssshhh to it, but the trunk and roots
were taciturn, and will be
a hundred years from now, perhaps.

Where the glass bubbles and colored lights
were, will be rain, and owls.
It won't hear carols sung again.
But then, it never listened.

--Ursula K LeGuin (1982)