the milk
man is
tardy with his bottles
of cream
and juice,
butter,
a carton of eggs.
the rooster crowed two
hours ago.
the newspaper
boy,
taking his good old
time
slinging my newspaper
towards my
porch
finally.
the mail is late too,
i see
him coming up the walk
slouched
by the heavy
bag on his shoulder.
unhappy with Christmas.
i don't dare
look at my watch.
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