Real Presence

Buttons are popping out and everyone

Claims they need my knickknacks

As my head is filled with bric-a-brac,

The year is landing down into holidays,

Where days slide into one another.


People strain for a spot at the table,

Once seated, they soon leave for shopping,

Then come back and continue eating,

Through every course, they complain

I have been selfish with the wine.


Feathers and wrapping paper populate

The homestead, a touch of snow

And football will occupy the backyard,

If anyone tells me my holiday cracker

Is spent at both ends, I will explode.