"You dropped your wallet!"
A cry that carries,
that turns heads,
a small kindness,
not necessary to give.
A truck stopped,
in an intersection,
holding up traffic,
no reason other than kindness.
"Thank you!"
"Have a good day."
An exchange,
hampered by wind,
and yet heard and
reciprocated.
Her voice is high,
pitched to travel
through the air.
His voice is deep,
a gentle bellow through
the howl of air.
Nothing made him stop,
or yell. Simply the want
to do good as she darts
back out into traffic to
scoop up the lost item
then runs back to the
sidewalk, waving her
thanks as he passes.
It's a good day.