If Amazon’s trees could talk

by Phil Howard

Amazon is quiet even when it’s noisy. Even just a few feet from the bustling Amazon

Parkway, leaning against a car, it’s quiet. Sure there is noise, but it’s a quiet type of noise. A noise that blends into the background: an anti-noise that drowns out any birds, or talking, or sirens. It’s peaceful.

And then it happens right on schedule–literally. The number 92 bus arrives to the delight of the few soon-to-be passengers at the terminal. When the cumbersome beast of a vehicle finally melds with the Amazon anti-noise again, only one man holds his vigil of patience.

About 20, the man is dressed in a t-shirt, shorts and running shoes. Possibly he’s a straggler from the neighboring running trails. Or maybe he’s coming from the dog park on the opposite side of the terminal, and his four-legged friend is invisible. Any further attempts at deciphering this enigma of a man are cut short when he too is whisked away by the steel beast.

At least that rules out the dog theory. They don’t allow pets on the bus.

The Park & Ride attracts many kinds of patrons, but they all share one thing: no one ever stays long.

A car leaves and two more take its place. Just now a man in all black arrives with his faithful Australian Shepherd in tow. “Come on”s and “Good boy”s litter the trail to the doggie social club. They’ll be gone soon. That’s how it works here.

The well-behaved canine soon joins his comrades in a mingling of dogs of all sizes, shapes and colors. The Australian Shepherd is soon lost among his brethren.

The small fenced in area breathes life into its tranquil surrounds. It even smells different near it–though not for the obvious reason (there are rules after all). No, it must have something to do with the dogs themselves. Can one smell pure, simplistic joy? Perhaps it’s the trampled grass, or, more likely, it’s just a trick of the mind.

A later-in-life couple in matching red windbreakers shuffle their cocoa Schnauzer through the gates. The dog pauses with out a word from either of his color-coordinated owners. He’s clearly a veteran.

Another interruption breaks the silence. This time the offender is a dried up leaf being dragged across the pavement. The term “Eugenian tumbleweed” instantly springs to mind.

It’s a rarity when something as mundane as a leaf blowing in the wind is jarring to the senses, but that’s the allure of Amazon.

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