The railway path is thick with autumn now, the edges of the trail carpeted in acorns and leaves that crunch softly underfoot.
I walk alone, but the air is full of company. Three robins tumble across the path ahead, wings quick as thoughts, too fast for me to capture in a photo.
When I glance left, another robin sits waiting in the hedgerow, its chest puffed out like a tiny guard. For a moment we hold each other’s gaze before it slips away into the branches.
I stoop and gather three acorns, each a different shade: green, caramel, brown.
They rest in my palm like a quiet little collection of the season, a reminder of change in stages.
Further on, a woman passes me. She smiles says, good morning. Her long dress sways as she walks, hair piled high in soft waves. She looks radiant without trying, almost unaware of the beauty she carries with her.
For a moment, I wish she could see herself the way I do, glowing against the golden edges of the morning.