Change in the Jar

A coin hit glass with a startled clatter—

the jar wobbled, caught it like a living thing,

glass scratched and chipped from years of careless taps,

wood beneath scuffed, flecked with coffee dust.

The barista glanced up, caught off guard,

smiled something quick and small,

like surprise was already folding into routine.

I watched the jar, nearly empty, fill with loose hands:

a crumpled bill, a weightless kindness

that didn’t need to be named.

Here, in the clink and clatter,

something shifts,

tiny weights adding up,

even when no one’s looking.