A Poem for the Second of December

Purchasing welcome the

things we do every day (I

prefer a shoe that zips or

slips) and the thousand life-

-or-death decisions that 

must be made before 

supper tend to blunt 

and deaden the sharper

pains of living.

A look backwards (a week

was plenty, according to

the ancients) affords a better

way to look forward.  It isn’t

that the jabs must be

catalogued like hotel guests

as they pass, but if you

would know why sleeping

on your side (or back, 

or stomach) seems necessary,

count how many times you

have smiled or held

a door for another person.

Who, when fully grown,

did not want to be the 

one (not like Helen, solely 

because of her beauty) capable 

of launching a decent holiday 

dinner?