After Christmas

You are only moments gone.

We hear the sound of drifting engine as
you begin your journey back
to the other life you live so
                                       far away from home.

“And that’s just as it should be,” I explain.

Perplexed, the big yellow dog
moves to the window to gaze after you

“How are we to bear such sentimental hearts?” I ask her.
In answer, she turns away.

Wrapping ornaments
    in tissue and newsprint,
    I see drops
    hit holiday ads
    and delicate glass.

I close the last box softly
and write across the top
FRAGILE

hoping all will hold
safe
for another year.