City Echoes

Concrete canyons hum a low, restless song, a rhythm of distant traffic, a siren's brief keen. Yet, in cracks where pavement yields, a stubborn green unfurls, a dandelion's yellow, defiantly strong. Wind whispers through fire escapes, carrying the scent of rain-wet asphalt, then jasmine from a hidden pot. High above, peregrines trace invisible shapes, a wild grace against the glass, a forgotten plot. Even the greyest wall holds stories, graffiti blooming in bold, unspoken verse. And the tireless river, through industrial worries, mirrors the sky, a silver thread, no less diverse.