We've all heard the phrase "beggars can't be choosers", surely. Well, apparently that is not always the case in today's world, for it seems that now, beggars can, in fact, be choosers...

A little more than a year ago (sixteen months ago or so, probably, but I remember it like it was yesterday) I, and two friends were seated on a park bench, just passing the time. What were we waiting for? I don't remember; it's not really important anyway.

Well, along comes a homeless man (a beggar, a street person, an urban camper, what have you - or maybe just some average Joe - I didn't know him from Adam, so it's all conjecture, but he seemed like he was homeless, anyway.) So along he comes, and he asks us for some spare change. I, of course, not being one to keep change in my pockets, and having slipped into some sort of generous mood, maybe because it's summer and I am sitting on a park bench in the shade, just after eating lunch at a diner across the street, and plus I only had probably eighty cents or so on me anyway, decide to empty my pocket and donate its contents to our mendicant.

"Thank you", he says, as I hand over the pile of quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies. Then, interestedly, and still standing right in front of us, he starts pushing around the little pile of coins around in his hand, separating them into groups, according to their kind. Once finished (and he seemed quite adept at this, so it took not long at all), he pressed the four or so pennies back into my hand; "you can have these back, I don't want them", and walked away, just like that.

Stunned, I thought to myself, "well, beggars can be choosers - you learn something new every day!", and one of my more observant compatriots said "dude, he gave you back your pennies!"


If this beggar had his horse to ride:
the name would be Redemption.

his pistoning hooves driving home:
Goodness, Thought, Safety and Love.

No saddle to separate the two,
rider and ridden
one and the same.

No bridle,
each knowing the path
strewn with danger;
each knowing the moment
to turn: leap clear
to continue in safety.

No bit;
both with the same
to reach

Riding forward
arms embracing
to feel every motion.

A whisper
that should be drowned
by the urgent gallop,
but spoken close enough
to be heard.

My breath in her ear,
"Go to her!"

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