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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