On gossamer wings she ascends dropping pennies in the lane. Those wishes of luck fall at the feet of a grubby child, wide-eyed at the sight of a moonbeam in flight. For fair folk look so to mortal eyes turned towards heaven’s gleam at night. She picked up that penny glinting in the setting sun’s light and headed home with a smile.

Tomorrow’s bread’s been bought with luck that came from naught. Tonight she’ll sleep in peace purchased by heaven’s penny. Luck’s smiling down on her skipping through the lengthening shadows. No more begging tonight, she’s earned enough to rest.

I think in stories. Don’t you?  So every time I see a penny on the ground, a little story pops into my head. This is one of them.

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