She is drained. A shadow self.
Empty headed, or perhaps too full.
A distraction of jingles
catches her unawares.
Discordant bells and
pleas for generosity.
Unheeded.
Louder still and always
clarion calls for
more, more, more.
Needs be done.
Reservoirs depleted.
She gives in to the frenzy.
And, finally, she consumes
the fruitcake of her labor,
seasoned with equal parts
judgement and joy.
Great stuff!!!