Shadow lurking catlike gamin
silent steps of bare bruised feet
paid homage to all dirt of the street
A soul at givers mercy
no shame on taking alms
from folks willing to give
Yet free, soaring as a bird
remnants of what were once adornments
whizzing against the afternoon wind.
You would think him forsaken
yet he dances, jumps and laughs
as if in his fathers arms
chaperoned by something divine.
lowered lids, anticipatory grin
palms dry as cracked ground
a coin upon it dear relief
like a huge pour upon a desert plain
“Thank you good sir”
I heard the voice of an angel
and I saw the face of God.