Poem about Kindness

for a while, I’ll stop considering
the disastrous world news that’s streaming in; 
and consider Here; and Kindness.
My room is in a semi basement 
on a busy street 
and through the windows 
I watch the legs pass by —
fascinating pastime!!!!!!  
Swift, or hobbling, sometimes sauntering 
with bags that show where they have been: 
a trendy bakery, a shopping mall, a museum. 
and then —oh joy —
small legs, the children — eyes at my window level, 
lured by my light, 
they potter up and peek inside 
they look at me, they smile, they  wave.
I open the window and say, “Hi 
what’s, your name??”
Sometimes get a whispered answer: 
“Sarah”. Greetings, young Matriarch, 
where are you from? 
Ghana, or Iowa, or Liverpool,
short legs across the bumpy sidewalk,
learning how not to stumble 
and how to talk to strangers 
and how to stride on, waving