She’s in a thrift store in her dream,
and though her daughter
suggests it’s too big,
Ruth buys me a men’s suit coat,
something to keep me warm.
Later she tells me the real reason
she bought it: she knows
I need the arms around me.
Into one of the pockets,
she slips a check for $100,
then asks her daughter
to give it to me.
I find the coat in a message
Ruth sends me on Facebook,
where the pixels warm me
more than any wool, more
than any fleece, any down.
How easy it is to be generous,
sharing our dreams, our thoughts,
our hope. All night I stick my hands
in the coat pockets. They are deep,
warm, full of surprises.
