The pilings thrust upward toward the sky.
The water of the canal mirrors their boldness
but softens it somehow,
gives the impression that each upright timber
extends downward to the center of the earth
and fastens us all securely in place on the ground,
so we won't float untethered into the vast beyond.
Walkway lights twinkle upside-down
like fireworks displays.
Soft amber light
rolls across the arch
in the center of the slumbering bridge.
Small ripples tickle the water's edges.
The sky's breath separates the clouds just enough
so the light can peek through.
Morning comes softly,
illuminating the dark corners of my thoughts.