The Right Box, The Glossy Ribbon
These are the days of gifts.
What we wanted, ribbons, bells.
Nothing lasts forever.
The confident ones jam the malls.
The rest of us, undecided,
head home early.
Back to town for something fragile.
Checks travel well,
and are never too large.
Some gifts require new shelves.
Some need tending. Some
shout greedily, Love me, Love me.
The cement bear on my porch
sport's a child's jaunty hat.
I wrapped a perfectly empty box,
set it in a bear-sized basket
beside him. It meets
his needs exactly.