You head outside and walk past
the ruler-straight line of the front
yard where it meets the sidewalk,

and there, atop the profusion of
lava rock not far from the bush
of the same name, lies an errant

chunk of lavender sidewalk chalk.
You stop, look around for a child
or an artistic adult who might have

wandered by and lost a stick from
a fist or a pocket. But you see
no one, so you pick up the gift

and chalk the first thing you think
of onto the sidewalk between
a few crusty sycamore leaves.

You stand back, admiring the
sentiment, and put the chalk
back on the nearby rocks,

hoping that another passer-by
might just pass by and feel
inclined to respond with

whatever offering they’re
holding in their heart.
Like this.