Friday, September 2, 2016

poem for Mario

Sweeping the floor,
I pick up three dimes.
Pennies, from heaven, inflated for modern

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.  

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