umbrellas

Checking out at the grocery store,
across the river on Market Street,
I noticed some kids by the door
ringing bells and calling out to passersby.

Perhaps they hoped to collect rent,
or save poor children from abusive guardians.
Perhaps they just liked ringing bells.

They stood there all day.
The next day it rained.
They still stood there
but now under their umbrellas,
calling out as I passed,
"Merry Christmas brother."