Prosperity

On a cool, rain-soaked night in Autumn,

I passed a homeless man sleeping on a bench.

He was covered in a heavy blue blanket

Drawn up to his chin. He seemed so peaceful.

Tomorrow, he will need his breakfast, I thought,
So I reached into my pocket and pulled out some change.

I put it on the blanket and walked away.

Now, as it turns out, I am low on money,
But I won’t starve. Even if I have to turn to begging,

I’ll have this poem to offer in return.