POEM FOR THE SEASON
DROPPING THE PENNIES
He’s been saving forever. Every time
he bends over to rescue one, he looks up
expecting the stars to open their mouths
and sing. Tonight he can see his breath;
his pockets are full, and seagulls backlit
by fairy lights drop hopeful cargo from
the sky. The bright pearl at the entrance
to Chinatown freezes and stops in its
tracks, fixing its gaze on a woman wearing
the scent of gingerbread. She is following
a man carrying a tree that smells like
the ancient pine forests of Smyrna.
Everyone's following their noses to Jerusalem;
and no one on the street will go hungry tonight.
He gets the message, a flourish of warm
air passing through brass instruments.
He puts his hand in his pocket, touches
the demented voices of copper ladies
with diamonds in their hair. Soon he will
pass them out, and, even if they land in
the silence of snow, some people will
hear them and their luck will change.
Beautiful poem.