Value in Small Change

I stood in line, the tip jar swayed,

a soft clink of coins, my guilt displayed.

A crumpled bill dropped by a stranger's hand,

a warm reminder of help so unplanned.

The jar half-filled, sticky with touch,

I wonder how much I owe, or if it’s too much.

Sometimes a little can feel like a weight,

when I leave empty-handed, though it's not too late.