This swallow looks like it's waiting for an important meeting to start.

I watched one of the swallows more closely as it shifted slightly on the steel cable. Its feathers caught the last slivers of sunlight, shimmering with hues of deep indigo and copper. It seemed unbothered by my presence or the faint hum of voices from the bridge behind me. A small gust of wind ruffled its plumage, and for a moment, it looked like it might take off—but it stayed. Perhaps it was as reluctant as I was to leave this fleeting moment suspended between daylight and dusk. The water below mirrored its stillness, save for a few ripples that hinted at life beneath the surface. A quiet rhythm seemed to connect everything—the bird, the bridge, the water—and I felt like a silent observer in some unspoken conversation.