Looking down I saw it
Flat against the slat between the blocks of cement.
The Lincoln head, copper and not a little worn,
Stared up at me
As if to say—well,
Here I am, you lucky duck!
But after contemplating for half a moment
Too many chances in this time of pandemic
Too many fears of coin touched by a thousand fingers
And who knows what…?
And so, I left the penny for my thoughts,
And moved on
When again I spied a thing peeking from the corner
Of a neighbor’s yard
Its face a buttery yellow sprouting silky petals of white.
And without hesitation,
I plucked it
And held it to my nose
Inhaling days of earth and sun
I placed the flower deep within the pocket of my coat
Where it remains
A reminder and a wish
As coins lay scattered, forgotten,
Spring will come again.
—- Shirley Russak Wachtel
April 30, 2020