Winding my way along a path blessedly bereft of other travelers, I reach a point hidden from the view of the main road, as well as the walkers along the shore. In this little pocket of solitude, I unwind and relax my countenance, easing into the comfortable state of being alone. This has always been my comfort zone, and it is here where beauty has always opened up to me.
Leaves rich with their fall color are scattered along the side of the path. Looking up, I see their source still holding many points of color against the sky, most of them fluttering in the slight breeze. I wait and watch a few more fall to the ground; the passing of time can sometimes be seen in such plain form. Is there irony in watching this passing of time while creating a memory to still the moment?
Above my head another tree leans down to whisper more secrets, its berries like wandering eyes, offering another look, and possibly some poison. I walk onward.
