Christmas Trilogy Part I

For several years at Christmas, my wife’s aunt and I would pick a joke gift for each other and write a poem about it. One year, I found a set of three hand puppets, an owl, a beaver, and a moose.  I decided to write a trilogy about them and sent one each year over the next three years.  I am going to reproduce the trilogy here, but instead of one a year, I will publish Part II on Thursday, Dec 11, and Part III on Friday, Dec 12.  I have been told this makes a great story to read to a child at Christmas.

The Greatest Ever Christmas Tree
Part I

Once upon a time it’s told
On a night both clear and cold
In a forest far from man
I tiny little life began

Snuggled in his cozy nest
Mom and Dad would both attest
The baby owl, a little boy,
Clearly was their pride and joy

He was a fuzzy little thing
Fat of face, but short of wing
Huddled up against his Mom
In an effort to stay warm

His father looked upon the lad
And with the wisdom of a dad
Said to Mom, “It is a shame”
“But he is still without a name”

About that time the baby stood
And mustering all the strength he could
Gave a hoot, and then another
Startling both his dad and mother

Dad stroked the baby owl’s head
Then to momma owl he said
“Unless you object as his mother”
“Hoots as good as any other”

So it was that from that day,
The name Hoot was there to stay
And as the little owl grew
All the woodland creatures knew

When Hoot, the owl, was about
Just by his distinctive shout
And if danger pierced the calm
Hoot was quick to sound alarm

One day when Hoot was high aloft
Over the woodland floor so soft
He saw footprints in the snow
And followed to see where they would go

Through the trees the footprints ran,
Ending finally where a man
Was looking ’round at all the trees
In snow that reached up to his knees

He said, “Hello, my little friend
Did the woodland creatures send
You to help me find a tree
To take home to my family?

For it is Christmas here on earth
Time to celebrate Christ’s birth
And every year it’s up to me
To find the finest Christmas tree

But I am picky, I’m afraid
Not many trees “the cut” have made
The tree I seek is tall and strong
With bright green branches full and long

With a trunk that’s straight and true
Does such a tree occur to you?
Yes, I know of such a tree
Full of grace and majesty

Hoot motioned for the man to follow
The tree grows in a nearby hollow
And after just a little while
As the owl flies, about a mile

They came upon a tree so fine
The man exclaimed “It Must Be Mine”
And from his bag, an axe he drew
And took a swing so strong and true

But after two such mighty whacks
He broke the handle of the axe
“Oh no” the man in anguish cried
It seems that I have been defied

At last the perfect tree I find
And now I must leave it behind
My disappointment I can’t hide
The thing I really can’t abide

Is that my kids will never see
The greatest Ever Christmas tree
Hoot didn’t understand it all
Why this wondrous tree must fall

But in his heart there was no doubt
That this man couldn’t leave without
The tree that to him meant so much
So he called a bunny from it’s hutch

“Go get Toothpick” was all he said
And away the little bunny sped
Hopping with his steps so light
And disappearing out of sight

“What are you doing?” the man demanded
Tell me you won’t leave me stranded
Out here with a broken axe
No place warm I can relax

Before I try to find my way
To where I started out today
And with a sad look on his face
His footsteps began to retrace

But Hoot flew to a tree ahead
And to the forlorn man he said
“Hey, you cannot leave here yet
I’ve just sent a friend to get

The help I think you will require
To fell the tree that you admire
Would be a shame to leave just yet
Without the tree you came to get”

“Help” the man said “I can use
But your comments do amuse
Does your friend have an axe or saw
That is what those tools are for

Hoots face was brightened by a smile
He said “just you stop and wait a while
Though my friend has no axe or saw
He couldn’t hold them in his paw”

“He has something better yet
It will do the job, I’ll bet
I have to tell you , he is good
When it comes to handling wood”


About oldmainer

I am a retired manager living in Southern Maine and a would be writer of poetry, narratives, short stories, and random opinions, and that's how Oldmainer was born. Recently, I decided to try an experiment. I added photography to the mix, using only a cheap cell phone with a limited camera and the editing software that came with it, and added the blog site Inklings at to showcase the results. So, feel free to use whatever you find interesting or worthy, but please honor the terms of my copyright when and if you do. They may not be much, but they are still a piece of me. I appreciate your checking me out and hope that you find something that will encourage a return visit. Thanks for stopping by.
This entry was posted in Childhood, Christmas, Couplets, Fantasy, Friendship, Home, Imagination, Love, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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