Din River

he was walking, selling
mediocre prints of nature
we had stopped face to face
near the fountain

he, with the solid cheerful
light of a star about him,
though you wouldn’t suspect from his manner
surely his road had not been easy

when i asked where he was from, he replied Africa
i added “Senegal” as he said it in the same instant,
he put in my hand a porcelain thumb size
elephant, trunk up for luck, a gift, he said

recognizing my nature, he didn’t try to sell me anything
i put some change in his hand for the gift,
because I knew it would help reciprocate
for his time away from his labors

we each parted content, and perhaps in some way
changed for the better, a result of
our brief connection that took us farther along
the din river of humanity