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Waking in Dunbar The weather so nice, not crisp, not hot, overcast and cool. The air is fresh. Taking a deep breath… refreshing. Many trees. Some recently planted. Others still standing from the olden golden days of the middle class. As I walk to the coffee shop, mystical characters, neighbors unknown, quietly appear from behind houses, around corners, hedges and gates. A four legged friend sometimes saunters beside them. We gaze in passing, eyeing each other, looking for hints of threat, recognition or indifference. I continue on my way. Brick, wood, plaster and stucco. Houses. Many with chimneys displaying a past connection to nature, the nurturer. All artifacts of an era long gone. Sweeping her sidewalk she draws my
attention to the front lawns and I see the prides of the neighborhood.
Prim and tidy homes. Good paint, manicured gardens, sturdy fences.
Do they do this themselves? How do they find the time? Maybe they
buy the appearance? Regardless it separates them from today’s
working class. Sip after sip I wake and the comfort of my early morning mist fades around me. Hustle and bustle builds, loud conversations,
other people’s dreams bump into mine and I know… Vancouver fall 2015 |