by Caroline Whalley

Mine is a quiet, culturally mixed, locale 
Near dwellers, neahgeburs, with differing patterns;
I try and renounce any stereotypes, as banal,
opinions, of what might go on inside their walls, 
Behind doors, quiet habits, unobtrusive but for smells,
that occasionally travel, dispersing into my world.
I savour the pongs, whiffs, aromas,  trying to isolate their root
Maybe fish, meat or vegetables on the barbeque?
With interest and applied concentration
I can single out the pleasure and recreation. The ‘goings on’. 
I begin to notice with edgy awareness, the contrary is also true
The ‘others’ in their houses are observing my life too.
Day 17, of what will be a 'one a day' poem. By the end of April 2021, 30 poems will create a series written throughout the month of April 2021. Each poem covers a fragment, a snippet taken consecutively throughout a day.

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