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.