Ten Items or Less

by Deb Scott

A work-friend saves small

change - found money  -

and once a year sends it

to charity. It's an act

richer than whole-milk

cappuccino. She nourishes

her heart when she values

the forgotten. For the slumped

man ahead of me in line,

his leftover hope is less one

of rushing than resources.

Ten items or less depends

on finding change in his pocket

or lost coins hidden among crumbs

at the bottom of my purse.

Had the dry land farmers

or children of landfills found this

folded twenty in discarded pants

they would have whooped and counted it

a miracle of marvelous proportions.