Look around to see what surrounds.
Patrice Vecchione wrote this poem about her father, who by looking around and picking up spare change, found enough money, $10,000, to put a down payment on their house. What do we miss?
Yesterday I found a shiny penny.
Just what can be found with eyes open?
$10,000 in coins, anyway.
Enough to fill a few five-gallon jugs.
When his friend asked for a loan,
"Take this," said my father,
pointing to a bottle full
of the small money
other men leave behind.
A kind of faith in the possibility
a nickel has.
The wristwatch I wear daily
was left on a park bench
till my father came along.
Once, shortly after my mother left,
bills were due and Dad was down
to soda crackers and cigar butts.
In line to buy a cigar,
with his shoe,
he reached for a fifty.
Most people look in the wrong direction,
locating faith above them.
Pennies don't fall
They're down below; more likely
to be found near sewer drains,
on the asphalt, beside dog droppings
and spent matches, worn shoes
even beggars leave behind.