Driving down the mountain I see the breath of townspeople in the distance , a traffic deputy working the lanes , short chirps on a silver whistle ...
Cars scurrying for work and play , shop owners studiously clean their piece of the streets , working their ads on the windows just so , feather dusting their wares nice and neat ...
The morning paper delivered via bicycle , the ice on winter Dogwoods
that line the main avenue ..
Birds of every size and color work the evergreens in town , eastern gray squirrels noisily frolic among the Oaks in city park , calm , golden streetlights on every block rest till evening now that morning has come to call ...