The clouds lay close against the mountain across the Fraser river and early morning birds sing their early morning songs. Chirping and chattering and other birdish sounds burst through the sullen predawn morn accompanied by the background noise of highways in the distance: coming and going. Every now and then whistles blow and trains choo choo through too. It is 5am on a Friday morning and another day is about to commence as this part of the world awakes to engage in their hustles and bustles and habits. Autotimers on coffee pots and breadmakers precede their groggy masters' appearences and still the birds sing. Morning rituals engaged.
