An Ode to Boxes (as moving day approaches)

Oh, pretty boxes,
Why can't you fill yourselves
With cans out of the pantry
And dishes from the shelves?

And all the linens within the closet
Into your open mouths deposit,
And all the rugs around the floor,
The junk from in the kitchen drawer,

The movies, books, and art supplies.
And  knick-knacks, pictures, shoes, and clothes
Pack them right before my eyes.

Stack yourselves up to the ceiling
I beg you. See?
I'm even kneeling!

Then -- when all the packing's done --
Into the truck march one by one,
Then take yourselves across the miles
And sort into organized piles,

And unpack all
And put it away,
So I can find other ways to spend my day.

Oh, pretty boxes,
Why can't you pack yourselves,
With cans out of the pantry
And dishes from the shelves?