Fog on the lake. Leaves going red. Light coming up behind them like something patient.
I got here early. Too early, probably. The coffee is cold and I don't care.
The water isn't moving. The fog isn't in a hurry. The leaves are just hanging there, backlit, doing the one thing they were built to do.
No plans yet. No messages. The phone is in the car.
There's a way mornings like this reorganize you. Nothing gets added. Things get quietly removed. The noise, the lists, the small anxieties that ride along all day — the fog takes some, the light takes the rest.
I count the leaves I can see through the branches. Eleven. Then twelve when the wind moves.
This is the whole agenda: stand here. Watch the gold come up through the mist. Let the day start without me pushing it.
In a few weeks these leaves will be gone. In a few minutes the fog will be too. That's fine. That's actually the point.
Some minutes don't need improving. They just need attending.
I'll head back when the light flattens out. Not before.
#foggylake #mapleleaves #firstlight #quietmorning
