Old tracks, old leaves, and a light that comes in soft and low. The rails run straight into the gold and turn, somewhere far off, into mist. No train is coming. That's the point. Fallen leaves cover the sleepers in patches, red and brown and the odd bright yellow, and every one of them landed here on its own. I stand at the edge and breathe. Cold air, woodsmoke somewhere, the sound of nothing moving. My thoughts come the way trains used to, loud and fast, and then they slow down. There's no schedule anymore. Just the tracks, the leaves, and the patience of trees that drop everything once a year and trust it to come back. Let go. Rest. Begin again. I sit on a sleeper until my legs go cold. Then I walk back slow, one leaf at a time. #railtrail #autumn #mindfulmoment
