Wintergreen

 Wintergreen

Christmas is a blue sky cloud

  Which becomes a something new

And now looks new, a new something new

  With a hinting twist of wintergreen

Our bottle brush tree,

  So called as it came to us in a test tube

And is now taller than I

  With arms grown that reach wider 

Is now all slack-a-limp at ease,

  Coated by a drizzle weighted down

Of winter’s white vanilla frosted glaze

  That’s been applied for several days

Leaving me believing in Christmas cookies, 

  Fresh pine mint and sugar powder flavor,

And a fine respite from the Foole Yoole mayhem

  For we to scratch and sniff and savor