A Moment Above the Crossing

I leaned my shoulder against the green street sign's rigid vertical mounting strut to catch a brief respite. Down on the asphalt, the midday traffic surged through the intersection in rhythmic waves, each surge sending a low, steady hum through the steel beam beneath my boots. Instead of scanning for loose bolts or obstructions, I let my palms rest flat on the cold galvanized iron. From up here, the city breathes in measured intervals. Watching the patterned shadows of passing delivery vans stretch and contract across the crosswalk offered a quiet rhythm of its own. My stance didn't shift; I just absorbed the view.