These trees don’t know how good they’ve got it.
There’s a tree hunter on the loose and he’s not interested in plastic, tinsel or flocked trees.
He wants a
real,
live
Christmas tree.
I would warn you, little pine—yell for you to run.
But you can’t run.
And it’s not fair.
Because the tree hunter is on the lookout
and closing in,
getting closer and closer.
I’m sorry, little pine. I’m sorry the tree hunter ripped you from the association of Mother Nature and your family members.
The best I can do for you, little pine whose life was cut short at the hand of a merciless tree killer, is create a prominent place in our home, a set of beautiful lights, and decorations to adorn your soft, fragrant boughs.
If it’s any consolation for the loss of your life, you will be my favorite view in the house.
And I vow to warn your family members about the tree hunter’s motives for next year…




















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