The Geometry of Dawn

The concrete cools in the shadow of morning, an angled stillness pressed against the sky, where glass reflects a pale, unbreathed blue.

No engines break the grid of sleeping streets, only the slow drag of fog across an intersection, mapping the empty arteries of asphalt.

We built these towering cliffs for noise and speed, yet here, in the hollow cup of early light, they only hold the weight of quiet waiting.