There was a homeless man
across from me in the park.
He walked over, knees crooked,
hanging upright onto a cane.
His beard was wild and unkempt.
His hair nearing baldness.
The jeans he wore were worn,
with the fabric torn and eroded,
washed in color around the ankle.
He spared me a glance as he rummaged
through the trashcan beside us.
Women and children laughed and dance,
oblivious to the man’s pilgrimage.
He found a half drank mocha latte that I had
seen cast away minutes before, and I watched
as he cracked a shy, crooked smile at the find.
He sat, and eyed me as he gulped it down.
Only for a few seconds did he sit,
accompanying me in silence. Then he arose,
placing the cup carefully back into the waste,
and walked off toward the street.
Off toward some other feast,
some other treasure,
his cane dragging his feet onward,
step by weary step.
Life can be beautiful in the little things,
if you allow it.