Christmas Lights Poem by Nate Flying Owl

Twilight moments between night and day
Are quiet and cold in winter's grasp
In suburban solitude I stroll
On the frigid eve of Christmas day

That tranquil silence and touch of frost
Is what drew me from within my home
Introspection presses upon me
With the urgency of a soft breeze
So rare an occasion has pavement
Seemed inviting upon which to tread
Before long all that lights my pathway
Are street lamps and tacky Christmas lights

What pathetic form of vanity
Would compel a family to throw
A tasteless assortment of light bulbs
On their home in so-called Christmas cheer?

I slow down and linger near the house
Displaying the most exuberance
A quick glimpse through the window reveals
A tree heavily decorated
Placed next to the glass for all to see
Are they so vain that they would indulge
What has become a stereotype
Of this nation's seasonal culture?

Continuing on my night saunter
I stare down the rod ahead of me
Instead of the ornate vanity
With which these strangers strike my senses

The night-blackened clouds begin to pass
Revealing the stars and crescent moon
Each one thrusting it radiance forward
For the purpose of pleasing the Lord
Each one is existing entirely
Outside the influence of mankind
Each provides a better testament
To God's mighty love than Christmas lights