Hollow Orbits

Autumn fell overnight.

The streets are wet reflection.

We watch the signal light change to red,

then green. (shhh)

In the quiet space,

we trace the lines of the grid. (ooh)

Moving through

the fog, the pattern repeats again,

a memory in the machinery.

Only the movement remains,

carried by the steady hum. (hummmm)

Wet pavement.

The color of light

fading.