Ode to the lights

They haul you out

They haul you out 
once a year with no regard
for your safety, no care.
They drag you 
into the pouring rain
and swear at you,
jam your ends together,
yank at your knots,
twist your pieces.
You smash and pop,
you hang and droop,
they slosh around in the mud
cursing you, cursing
the wind, the winter. They balance
on rickety ladders
or collapsing boxes until at last
you're dangling
from the naked branches
of a little quivering dogwood
and you whisper,
"Don't be afraid."
Because you know
the night will come
and although it was once full
of sorrow, full of giving up,
this night
will be full of you.