I stoop for a penny

I stoop for a penny

half-hidden beneath a dry leaf,

its dull gleam sharp against the gray sidewalk.

A small thing,

worth almost nothing,

but stubborn,

like a flicker refusing to die.

I hold it tight

between thumb and finger,

a weight for a wish

I can't quite say,

a quiet talisman

on a day that wants to be different.