A Walk in the Autumn Woods

 Standing in an open field, I wander through the tall dried grass and weeds. They grasp at my skirt, gently tugging like little hands.

Cool and crisp air fills my lungs as I gaze up at the bright sky, with no cloud in sight. The wind gently caresses my skin and runs its fingers through my hair. 

I step into the woods.

Dried leaves crackle and crunch beneath my bare feet. The cold dark earth cradles each step I take. 

Falling leaves swirl through the air as if performing a sacred dance, carried gently by the cold breeze, whispering. 

My fingers graze the low-hanging branches, roughly cracked bark, and mossy trunks of trees as I wander along a shaded path. 

The scent of pine needles, burning wood, smoke, spices, damp earth, mushrooms, and decaying plants envelop me.

Bright patches of sunlight peek through with streams of golden rays. I can feel its heat. 

In the distance, birds sing a sweet melody while squirrels busily prepare for the long winter ahead. They leap through branches, digging and burying their coveted stash in preparation for the long winter ahead.

I stop to pick some berries growing alongside the path, pricking my fingers on their thorny branches. Their sweet tart juice and soft fuzzy flesh fill my mouth. I look down at the red and purple now staining the hem of my skirt. 

The light is beginning to dwindle, and the air is getting even colder now. The woods have gone quiet. The only sound is the wind and leaves. 

The sky is now a soft wash of orange, gold, and lavender. The moon is beginning to rise. There is the faintest twinkling of stars peeking through the quickly fading sunset.

It’s time to go now. 

I can see and smell the smoke rising from the chimney of my cottage. As I get closer, I see the glow of the crackling fire and lit candles; they shine like beacons through wavy glass windows. 

I open the door and step inside.