The Gift

In the year 2002 television and news
both radio and papers tell us story
after story of violence, corruption
misplaced trust. We shutter and shrink
at a world full of doubt. Where are we
headed with each horrific tale? But a
gentle road in a quiet town just north
of Boston, when we are vacation bound
rekindles our faith. In a tiny pottery barn
with the door left unlocked by its owner.
Trusting in people has not vanished here
No one around, just a tiny shed with light
switch on wall that is easily found. Tables
covered with a craftman's wares, each with
a small price tag appear. Tissue paper and
bags in the corner. We purchase and wrap
our newfound treasures. Money is left on the
tabletop, the lights turned off and the shed
door closed. We walk to the car with a sense
of wonder,that someone exists whom has not
been pulled under by crime stories and hate.
They still believe in honest people to leave the
fair wage. We smile as we leave not quite sure
if the treasure was purchased or gladly given
away. The gift of faith, of trust in good cannot
be wrapped in tissue; but if it could we would
place it on the shelf with the lovely hand crafted
pottery vase.

written by Pauline August, 2002 (c)