“I’ve a duck,” he proclaimed, “for Christmas day.”
“A duck, do you say? Why buy it today?
‘Tis but the fifth; why tease me with fowl…”
(A passing grimace did his face betray.)
“When twenty long days have we to delay?”
“I’ve many glad notions ‘bout what I’ll do,
Like boil or bake it or toss it in stew.”
Ere he the fowl in the freezer stuffed
And fled the kitchen with plenty ado.
I meanwhile snacked on a roasted cashew.
Upon reentry he said not a word
Neither greeting nor mention of the bird.
My last bid to embrace him proved a bust;
As he scampered away, I stood nonplussed.
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