morning faces

it's more of a slumbering-saunter than anything, but an attempted jog nonetheless.

paved road underfoot, i pass the same homes, faces and animals daily. no longer can i leave them nameless.

there's hippie smoker lady with a log cabin and grass re-seeding itself for the fortieth time and her long, hippie dog. she always says hi in a hurried, sincere way.

mr. lonely clad in fluorescent green jacket with the intentional beard and the over-extended hello from across the street and curious looks from his four rescued dogs.

miss stick-straight with perfume powerful and fashion-conscious model-walk.

the whistles of a young boy standing outside in his pajamas entreating his mother who whistles back from the bus-stop across the street. they whistle until the bus whisks her away.

and finally, my neighbour -- wrinkly, friendly, and passionate about her over-priced garage sale which she hosts every saturday, rain or shine, customers or none.

these are some of the faces that compose the mural of my mornings.