Even from 38 floors up, the people below can look like ants.
I sometimes wonder if from so high you might even forget they are people.

Blackberries sit next to coffee on a large handcrafted "green" boardroom table.

The conversation buzzes

housing, jobs, the economy

Good people. Smart People. People from on high.

I wonder what they would see if they drove through my neighborhood

Boarded buildings
Empty lots
Weeds
Broken Glass
Trash

What they wouldn't feel is the beauty
What they wouldn't see is the people

What they wouldn't hear are the stories
What they wouldn't know is the history

Like the life of my street and the broken white house with green shutters
Weeds rising through the cracks of the sidewalk
The fence poking out at you as you walk by

For years it sat alone

Until yesterday

Hammers on the roof
Ladders against the walls
Tools on the ground

A man stood by closely. Watching.
This new house resurrected.
For him and his family.