Roots in Concrete

A dandelion breaches the asphalt, petals golden against the grey, indifferent to the city's haste.

The pigeon knows all the rooftop gardens, where humans have fled the sky, planting tomatoes in defiance.

Moss creeps along the brick, patient as centuries, softening the edges we built too sharp.

At dusk, the sparrows still sing their small rebellions, reminding us what the earth remembers.