What Was Given
What was given came without the usual reasons—the earth that day having completed no meaningful circuit of the sun. The giving should have been cause enough for surprise, or that hidden beneath patterned folds of wrap, within a box large as any man's bewilderment, waited some unknown thing, purchased after long labor. How undeserved, that unreciprocated moment, when all the twisted paths they'd walked together and alone, seemed to brighten at the first tug on the bow, the paper hinging out like doors, the lid ready to come undone as one stood there, still too frightened to peer inside.
Reprinted from Double Going by Richard Foerster, with the permission of BOA Editions, Ltd. Copyright © 2002 by Richard Foerster. All rights reserved.