The track had turned to mud by late October, curving away between the last of the fields and the first dark ranks of forest. At her feet a broad puddle held the world upside down, catching the bare birch branches and the textured gray-blue sky in a trembling mirror. Ahead, the low sun poured a warm, golden light over the rough grasses and the few stubborn leaves still clinging to the trees, setting the pale trunks aglow against the cool, gathering clouds. Birches rose in pale columns beside the brooding pines, their layered silhouettes closing in as the path slipped deeper into the woods, and the quiet air seemed to thicken with a hushed, cinematic stillness, as if the scene itself were pausing for breath before whatever might come next.
Debbies Six Word Saturday
magnificent!