Thriving
I take what I can use.
Clothing, shoes, bags.
Toys that still have all their pieces.
Electronics that turn on.
Not food. Not medicine.
Not what is broken
beyond what I can fix.
We assess on a case by case basis.
A cello came in today.
It stood in the doorway
the way things do
when they don't know
if they are welcome.
I ran my hand along the neck.
No cracks I could see.
The bridge was sound.
It smelled of rosin, faintly —
someone had played this
not long ago.
I looked at my list.
It is still there.