The gift

Stranger at my door
knocking softly in the night
and no bearing of the boor
for in this, he sees no slight.

What for you break my sleep
and security of home?
When close my eyes I must,
must I not in slumber roam?

In the chillest, darkest hour,
to throw the bolt is folly.
May I summon for you aid?
And for what do you sound jolly?

If a gift you truly bear,
then leave it on the stoop.
I’ll not have you pushing in
and provide the local scoop!

Yet, your voice puts me at ease —
all while my hackles rise.
My home is fortress for my loves,
not made to shelter fools and wise!

A longing stirs down deep
memories glimpsed from afar . . .
no way to treat a traveller
nor the human spirit mar.

Come in, and take your shelter
come inside, with gift so bright;
I’ll stir the embers in the hearth
and we’ll be warm against the night.

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