by James Ong

by Gary Coleman

If I am brave
I won’t look away
from the man with the cart.
Suddenly my problems, the kitchen remodel,
my son’s grades—not all A’s,
seem less somehow.

I roll down the car window
and slip my sack lunch
into his shopping cart.
In this moment I glimpse
we’re all in this together.

Poetry by Kate Orrange

End of the Trail

As the north wind begins to blow
and the sheltering leaves fall,
we whisper “when must we leave?”

With a little money
but no bus or train here near the trail,
we wonder “how will we leave?”

All we have is a tent, a backpack,
and a pillowcase with a toy–
we mumble “where will we go?”

Poetry by Karen Donaldson

Who Cares

what a soul weighs

before or after life
it’s the in-between
that counts

and there are questions
to ask ourselves . . .

with a heavy heart
do we weigh more
does it sink
if we turn our back

are we not lighter
when we give
without wanting
something in return

who are we
if not each other
crossing paths, linking arms
lightening the load

Poetry by Alison Woolpert

Yesterday at the food bank I saw a regular
come in for her weekly bag of food. I’m sorry
we don’t have more to give. Since COVID,
donations are down and lots more people
are coming. I hand her a bag that usually
would be bulging but now only has half of a
small cabbage, 3 apples, 1 orange, 1 onion,
2 tiny potatoes and a loaf of bread. Thank
you she said and told me that on her way
on Chanticleer. On the bottom shelf someone
here she passed a little wooden book house
and a jar of homemade applesauce
had left a package of rice, a bag of beans,
everything helps. Take care I said. We both
said see you next week.

Bernie tee shirts
with him cold and in mittens
sell like hot cakes
raising millions for
Meals on Wheels

Poetry by Carol Steele

Semper Fidelis

the Salvation Army
ringer’s loud ringing

makes me consider that
that I have

the Meals on Wheels
rolls out and onward

makes me consider that
that I have

like a bird in the hand
not two in the bush

makes me consider that
that we all should have

Poetry by Alison Woolpert

Side View

Hidden under the overpass
angling up and down
wooden pallets crisscross
tents rise and fall
a city within a city
struggling amid chaos.
How I wish I could look away,
but I can’t . . . what am I to do?

Poetry by Karen Donaldson