Central Park Sunday

Sunday morning.
Mother’s Day.
I sit on a brick bridge watching ducks tread the waters of Central Park as a man gently plays a saxophone for change.
The parks slowly fills with joggers and couples with the morning paper in hand, looking for a bench to sit and finish their coffee and read. I mention it as this activity is becoming a rarity.
Parents caution their little ones not to venture into the dense foliage as they feel the park is not safe. The homeless I see in the public bathrooms are nothing but nice to me as they wash their faces and ready themselves for the day.
A Buddhist monk stops to give me a peace bracelet. I thank him and offer a small donation in return.
 This simple act of kindness lightens my heart in the best way possible.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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