Offering Prayer

last-minute scrounging from
couch cushions or auto ashtrays
to put cash in the plate

cans of food delivered weekly
and almost-anonymously, filling our shelves today
so that tomorrow someone can eat

checks, written carefully
the first of each month,
leaving other bills 'til later
    
a couple bucks, emptying my wallet
of all but credit cards
so the cardboard-sign-guy can eat

school supplies on a sanctuary table
destined for kids whose parents
may need to write their own cardboard sign

an elder kneeling beside a preschooler
for just a moment on the patio,
to hear her immediate story

bank transfers,
digital ones and zeros magically lessening
my account, strengthening our work together
   
grieving parents offering
their dying son's organs
to bring another family new life

All These We Offer To You, O G-d