The flies buzz around but they don't bother. They are part of the setting and sense of place. It's a a garage with a big swinging barn door, This coffee shop with a high ceiling. Dark green and dark gold appears as the Logo accents and the barn doors swing wide. Wooden beams serve as part of the support, The brick walls are painted white. The seating is communal as it should be, No more islands. Let's sit at the long table Together and sip coffee as it wafts, pushed by A September breeze rushing in through the barn doors. Finally you are settling in because place Matters more than I ever imagined compared to Others. Much more. We access the same place. But do we sense it similarly? The obvious answer should have been addressed Back in elementary school when you found yourself Gasping at sunsets, struck by vivid colors, felt sounds And never removed a childlike wonder about seeing Something for the first time and drawing it in your mind's eye. W
The man ambled out of the cafe to look at the tree up close, Someone was pouring water from a mop bucket at the tree roots. The man pouring the water stated how the decade old tree Had not been tended to carefully enough and manual watering Is required, though he wonders what the future of this tree Holds given an already wasted decade. The other trees in the same Right-of-way will need the same sort of adjusted care. The ambling man took all this information in and added to the conversation With a knowledge only capable by spending time on this block. An entire conversation unfolded about the history of the trees in the Right-of-way on a city block which has witnessed its share of Change in a decade, let alone decades. Knowing that there are people that know this much about the Trees in front of you, it’s hard not to sense the thing which Has kept you restless for months, years, maybe longer. By being everywhere you have finally found yourself nowhere at all. Even wh