I feel like my best musings happen early in the morning
Before the sun fully rises,
And the world still lingers in half-light.
Winter has draped its silent cloak over the city,
Its pale breath fogging the windows of the bus.
My bag rests on my lap- not just out of habit
but as an anchor, a small weight of constancy while the world outside blurs past.
There’s a rare tranquility i feel in these moments,
One that seems to vanish as the day begins
There are no buzzing notifications,
no deadlines to pull me away
just me, the hum of the engine
and a moment untouched by time.
In a world so loud and fractured
where we just move through the motions
unmoved by this ephemeral existence
These fleeting bus rides
somehow tether me to reality.