The Silent Geometry of Dawn

The indigo recedes, a slow exhalation of stars yielding to the pale edge. Shadows detach from the damp concrete, stretching long before retreating into the sharp angles of the awakened city.

A single gull traces an invisible arc, its white wing catching the first hesitant sliver of gold. Below, the water shivers in response, a mirror fracturing the sky's quiet logic.

We wake to the hum of power lines, the distant thud of a delivery truck, the world reassembling itself. Light does not arrive; it is drawn out from the dark, thread by luminous thread.