I’m handed a ball-shaped mass of paper.
Glitter bows and silver pen all over.
Sometimes the small things that are inside
count more, you say. Unwrap it. You’ll see.
Wire cage under the paper. Hanging
from the top, five metal balls. Newton’s cradle.
Tick, pass centre, tick. Like my heart.
Like your heart. Beats passing back and forth.
Momentary silence between them, but
always an answer in the end.