Our Lady of Perpetual Astonishment

There was rain the in night and the morning began with welcoming, cool greys. Someone howling as the sun arrived. Howling as I stood tall to stretch and blink at the sodden clouds parting. The animal, as well as the clouds, found something else to do by the time a work crew showed up to clean trash from the riverside here. Maybe two dozen men in orange vests, garbage bags strapped to their belts and teamwork in their spirits, joking with each other in Spanish, English, spanglish, and I, parked directly in their path. They came toward me deliberate and wary, leaving plenty of space, making themselves small. The men avoid me, though I note that none ignore me entirely. I had been standing here and so I greet them first, looking each right in the eye as I do all unknown creatures. Like most animals, most of these ignored me and went about their business. They are humans though, and a few respond almost sheepishly, with gruff hellos and good mornings. One guy in particular smiled wide and genuine, looking relieved, but didn’t make a sound. I wonder if I reminded him of someone. Los hombres siguen y me pasan, cuando veo las camisetas naranjas en la espalda dicen “Prison Work Crew”. I watch them walk away along the shoreline in their amiable organized group. Several of these punished men continue to notice me for a while, too. As they fade from my hearing, their vests remaining beacons of their labor, a far-off train sounds its approach with several gloriously muffled cries of the horn. The day begun.