June poetry days 10, 11 and 12.

Joy Forest Boxes
The box lies on the mat, fat and waiting
It sits, ambivalent and pleased with itself
While you circle it and wonder why
Nothing has been ordered you think
And that suspicion creeps fast towards you
A joke perhaps or something more
Something worthwhile that a forest fell
And is still falling to bring mysterious treats
To a doorstep far away
In the hope of joy awakening

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