Lying Still

At first it seemed like any other morning. The drowsy drive to Metro, sipping tea along the way. Parking, walking, boarding a car, pulling out my journal and scribbling some thoughts.

But then I looked up, considered the time, noticed the difference.

It was the busiest hour of the busiest day of the week. And it was quiet. There were seats on train cars, places to stand on the platform, an unimpeded walk up the escalator.

These words come to mind:

The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still! 

William Wordsworth, "Upon Westminster Bridge"