The path between the rocks beckoned,
I stepped through the threshold and felt instantly embraced by the forest. The sensual fragrance of hemlock and moss filled me, dancing in my nostrils and in my mind, intoxicating me with its fecundity.
The path became steeper, and I was among oak and beech, their stout trunks reaching high into the blue October sky. It has been warm, and they are just now casting off their leafy cloaks. Soon their limbs will be bare, the leaves will begin to decay on the ground, and the forest will engage in an ancient ritual of preserving food for seasons to come.
As I crested the hill, I came upon a graveyard of trees, like an ancient city destroyed by some great force. a battle waged here, years ago, between wind and wood. Some of the trees, perhaps weakened by age or disease, could not withstand the siege and fell, taking out anything that stood in the way of their descent.
But even in death there is vitality: fungus grow in bouquets on the fallen wood, and now, where there is a break in the dense canopy, a ray of light; a sapling stretches out its branches to soak up the autumn sun.
And for us…