Breath of Clouds

The city breathes among streets and clouds,
a lung of traffic beats to the rhythm of the lights;
every window is a view into another’s breath,
and the air changes its garment with the passing hours.
Inside a glass bottle, a fragile refuge,
small dawns are born, clouds seeking shelter;
the stopper is a closed night, a minuscule twilight,
the echo of steps fades in the cold glow.
The city’s breath settles within that shining shell,
neon and rain intertwine in cold silence;
between glass and breath a slight tension trembles,
and the night seems to hold its breath for an instant.
When the grip loosens, the clouds escape toward the sky,
the city breathes again, keeping a scent of cloud;
the glass becomes a lens watching the world breathe differently,
and the breath remains, kept like a velvet secret.