The water is cold near this spring and I watch the first flakes of late autumn snow land on tree branches. The flakes form a textured coating resembling an artist’s touch. They fall like ashes playing amongst a thick mist hugging the forest. The mountain is somewhere behind these trees, somewhere behind these foothills. Wild mist is elusive, skittish, a feral kind of weather with no city lights to reflect the symmetry of urban yellows, greens, and reds. The mist fools you into believing this stream does not follow a path of least resistance, but it does, even if it looks like it’s wandering, like a fragment, a lost sentence the mountain has thrown down upon uneven parchment. Soon the snow will cover everything, branches will be weighed down and the only thing seen is the creek slicing its way through white. I cup my hands, holding fingers together…tight. There’s a seam where they meet, one hand layered over the other.
Images by me.
To be Published Schedule Rooted Literary Magazine - 12-31-2025 Juste Milieu - Issue 19 - 2 Items! Winter 2025 Press Pause Press - Volume 13 - Fall of 2026
Published Muse-Pie Press - Issue #52 Fall 2025 https://www.musepiepress.com/
Thank you for sharing this beautifully immersive piece! I truly appreciate the way you capture the quiet, almost meditative essence of nature—the interplay of snow, mist, and water is vivid and sensory. Your imagery is delicate yet precise, allowing readers to feel both the chill of the stream and the softness of falling snow. The metaphor of the creek following its path of least resistance adds a subtle philosophical layer, making the scene both visually striking and thoughtfully reflective. It’s a poetic glimpse into the serene, transient beauty of late autumn and early winter—absolutely captivating.
MoonCat 
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