poem for Mario

Sweeping the floor,

I pick up three dimes.

Pennies, from heaven, inflated for modern

times.

God dropping coins in my path

adds up to eyebrows and ears lifted

to whomever I'm about to meet.

I get paid to pay attention.

It's a poets life, burnishing the jewels

of invisible crowns.

If you see me smiling,

it's because you are shining bright

as His polished mirror.