Knocking At Dawn

As the first light of dawn seeps through, upon the branches of the parasol trees, a great spotted woodpecker is knocking at the morning of G-High Carbon plant. With a dab of vermilion and a brush of crimson, its black-and-white plumage dances among the gaps in the leaves. Tap—tap—tap, each beat falls squarely into the rhythm of the early hours. Not far away, the carbon raiser sits quietly in their stacks. Between them lie a few trees, a few doorways, and a few streams of morning light passing through the window lattices.