Christmas Trees
The shiny green cone lit up our living room. It seemed to give off a light of its own, independent of the strands of tiny bulbs and streamers of tinsel that crowned its natural beauty. A dozen strategically placed red balls blossomed like fruit from its branches, which lingered languidly in the living room air. Perfectly bowed and perpendicular to the trunk, the needled arms of our Christmas tree extended themselves to us as friends would, delighted to grace our home with their joy, their abundance, and their fragrant gifts. The life still coursing through its trunk and veins, our tree stood strongly over the strewn wrapped presents at its base. Like a security guard, it kept an eye out for impatient children and unruly dogs that sniffed and questioned the boxes' contents.
Presiding over the entire living room, the foot-high white-and-gold angel blinked and waved her magic wand. Her chiffon dresses and rhinestone crown gleamed with the richness of the setting sun, which shone confidently in the window beside it. As if the moment was choreographed, three doves swooped to a standstill in the windowsill and stared innocently indoors. Like old friends, the tree and the birds exchanged glimmers of recognition; perhaps they had encountered each other in the wild.
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