The Soft Wind

The soft wind blew through the streets. It continued its blowing through the newspaper stands in the streets, past the hotdog vendors, through the open doors of the doughnut shops, and past the park placed per the Mayor's request. The soft wind blew and blew and blew until the doves only needed to glide, not flap, as they chased dirty pigeons to dry hump.

Construction workers stopped to gawk at the roaring wind's effect on the surroundings. They were held atop the fourth story of the complex they were hired to build. Bill and Joe were there admiring the wind. Bill said to Jim, "Wow, the wind's strong today. Nature's alive. Like we live by this construction job, the wind survives by its blow job."

"That's beautiful, Bill," said Jim. "And I agree, Mother Nature beautifully blows."

Bill continued, "She blows to keep things chill, and to help the dead leaves dance upon the pavement in autumn, and to help the birds soar to new heights. Virgin Mother Nature huffs and puffs like Tera Patrick — only she's twice as beautiful."

"That's poetry," added Jim. "Mother Nature, ain't she something. I feel the air rise up in me on a day like today and I know God is with me, and I don't give a damn that my 3rd wife left me. The Lord will bringeth forth a forth."

"Nature is a circle — a chain of events." Bill continued to philosophize, "Balance is constantly being restored. Actions have their reactions. When a fruit falls, it leaves its seed to the soil so more may grow. This moment may be a new beginning for us."

"You're right," said Jim. "I'm going to travel to the Old World like I always planned to do, this year! I'm going to ask out Pam from the shop. There's no reason that any commonplace, seemingly trivial moment like this one can't be the start of a new beginning."

All of a sudden, a gush of wind blew strong in Jim's direction. As a scrawny man, he was blown off the ledge and landed as a big splat on the nearby sidewalk.

A young African-American child passing by stopped and stared deeply at the bloody body and became frightened. After the scared young woman calmed, she grabbed her Mother's hand tightly. "Ew, gross. Mom, I don't want to die without having made a difference. Screw medical school," the little girl said, "I want to be the next Tyra Banks." And with these words Jim's death was not a cold, callous call for cynicism, as beauty and balanced were restored in the world.

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