Morning is pale.
The sun hangs high.
A quiet road curves between low hills.
Palm shadows.
A dog barked.
A flock of crows high in the sky.

Empty parking lots.
The city blocks waited patiently,
under the shade of white walls.

It observes. It's not in a hurry.
The hills are just lying there.
As they have always been.
They are not going anywhere.

But the wind is moving.
Where is the wind going?

No one knows.