Every gift we make

Twelve letters, opened one a month.

A tasting tour in six squares.

Heavy enough to feel like a hug.

Salt, bread, honey, light.

Nine lamps, hand-painted this week.

The exact sky, on the exact night.

Point them somewhere lovely.

Every height, kept in one place.

Three moods, one shelf.

Forty cards, twenty of your photos.

Twelve hours, no effort, perfect coffee.

Two pots, thrown by one pair of hands.