The souls in the air are
made visible by the streaks of sun
finding their way into my room
through the empty branches outside my window
It is afternoon, outside I can see
live souls in the streaks
dancing up and down
I am in no hurry, everything is ready
I have wrapped the gift
in yellow paper
my son is so proud
he made the sword himself
in his father’s tool shed,
his present to his cousin
We leave when it gets dark
presents, happy children and all
I should be content