DUST COLLECTORS

I love the half hour before i start work in the morning. I sit alone in the warm ray of sun that peeks around the end of the dock, coffee in hand. If i sit still enough i can watch small fish chase the normally invisible insects who dance on the glassy surface of the clear turquoise sea. When here, I can see the little old fisherman with their weathered faces and rough, fish-smell-stained hands, starting their day, heading out to sea. Ever hungry and noisy seagulls, in hot pursuit. This peacefulness and love of the half hour before work, stirred only by the thick, un-breaking waves off the bow of a tug boat rolling over the previously parched, sunny spot at the end of the dock, as he makes his way out to end cargo ships’ long night at sea. It is now i am reminded that it is ten to 8. There are bathrooms to be scrubbed, laundry to be turned, rich mens’ linens to be ironed and SHIPLOADS of stainless steel to be polished…