Yesterday she sat on the corner
  of the far lane on an exit ramp off I-85.
I saw her from my car as I was
  on my way to work, contemplating all
the headaches of the holidays
  and thinking how pathetic that I couldn’t
afford stamps to send cards
  this year. She looked like me... except
for the cardboard sign that
  read, “No place to go. Hungry.”
Her face said it was no sham.
  It was thirty-four degrees outside at
8:30 in the morning and
  she didn’t have any gloves. Shivering
at the thought of how cold
  the world must seem to her, I tried to
maneuver my car across
  two lanes of traffic. Unsuccessfully.
I don’t know what I was
  going to say or do, but I know when
the light changed and I
  had to move on, I cried. And then
I prayed. And so today
  I hold my favorite butterfly earrings,
black on gold, an extra PB&J
  sandwich and a million wishes I could
help her see that she
  is still as beautiful as ever, that she
matters in this city
  of many million, that she is not forgotten
by One who fed body
  and soul, who can take parcels proffered,
paltry in comparison
  to her hungry need, and proliferate joy
and satisfy her every longing.
  I cannot give her wings to fly, and my
resources are too limited
  to make a lasting difference, but I
will not drive by again.
  I move to the far right lane, anticipating
her presence there
  on the corner. But I do not find her there
this morning. The light
  changes and I move on, butterfly earrings
dropping to car floor.
  Tears form, and then a wordless prayer,
for her and those like her 
  whose wishes waft on a wintry wind of want,
hungry, with no place to go.