Penny
I saw a woman stop,
Stoop on the platform
To pick up a penny,
And wondered what it was worth
To her, that disruption,
That eddy in the flow of the day's rush.
One hint of brightness,
A tiny windfall
And something changed.
Lucky heads up
She took it between gloved fingers,
Rose and went on her way,
A little richer,
A little luckier, reminded
Maybe small good things
Can happen to almost anyone.
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Author's Note
I've thought from time to time about writing a series of poems inspired by the Metro, which I take most weekdays here in DC. This is the first (and maybe the last). Now if you've ever ridden on the Metro you know it is not the most poetic of places, but the brief glimpses it gives you into other lives seem like a good fit for the glancing-but-lingering quality poetry often has.
N.B. It feels a little odd to post a poem on a site called Fictionaut. I've seen other poems on the site, though. And this is, after all, a story, even if it's in free verse.
Other stories by Jennifer Howard
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Pleasantly reminds my of a mini-bio+photo series the NY Times did awhile back, about ordinary New Yorkers.
I *always* pick up change
;-