The Threshold Between

Between the last train's echo and first light, the city breathes—a held note before the instruments wake.

A pigeon lands on concrete still warm from yesterday's sun. Its shadow is the only motion in the avenue.

You could fit a lifetime in this pause, the gap between one thought and the next, where nothing has been decided yet.

The scaffolding holds its breath. The closed storefronts guard their secrets. Even the traffic lights forget to change.

This is the world's soft answer to all our rushing—a moment where everything is possible and still.