Blustery wind slaps the sidewalks and

A woman yells at her seven year old.

Seven years old, seventeen years old.

The seventeen year old is bent over

His phone.


The wind picks up again,

Sliding across to the fast food place

Blowing napkins across the sticky floor.

A man pays for his unhealthy food,

Spilling his change.


The wind settles to a breeze and

Sweeps into the public library.

An old man buttons his coat.

In the corner, a Christian girl sneaks

A sip of beer.


The wind pauses, refusing to move.

Nothing to see here, nothing to see.

It picks up and flies to the street again,

To the yelling woman.


But what if I told you

The woman stopped her son from the approaching car,

The seventeen year old was finding directions

To the ancient bowling alley?


What if I told you

The man paid for someone behind him,

The old man’s coat kept him warm,

The girl was drinking old-fashioned root beer?


I refuse to view the worst in people.

I refuse to see with news reporter’s eyes.

I choose to smile at my neighbours and

See the good.


See the good.


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