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The air smelled of damp earth, wood smoke,

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and the sharp, sweet tang of frost -spitten

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pine.

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Julian walked slowly down the winding forest path,

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his boots crunching softly over a thick carpet

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of fallen needles and crisp foliage.

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Overhead, the canopy was a blazing stained -glass

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window of fiery red and burnt orange,

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catching the late afternoon's slanted golden sunlight and

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scattering it across the damp ground in brilliant,

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dancing flecks.

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Through the trees, the steady, soothing murmur of

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water drew him onward.

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He parted a final screen of heavy branches

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and stepped out onto the riverbank, catching his

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breath at the view.

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Before him, a calm river wound its way

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through the valley like a ribbon of molten

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copper,

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perfectly mirroring the fiery brilliance of the trees

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that crowded its shores.

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Every scarlet leaf and amber branch was doubled

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in the glassy, unhurried surface of the water.

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Spaning the width of the stream just ahead

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was an old wooden footbridge.

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Its handrails weathered silver by countless seasons of

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rain and snow.

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Julian stepped onto the planks, feeling the familiar,

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reassuring give of aged timber beneath his feet.

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Midway across, he paused, leaning his forearms on

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the railing to watch a single crimson leaf

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detach itself from a towering maple,

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drift lazily through the amber light, and touch

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down upon the river.

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It sent out microscopic ripples that momentarily distorted

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the sky's reflection

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before the water settled back into a mirror

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-like stillness.

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Standing there, suspended between the quiet woods and

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the gentle current below, the rest of the

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world simply fell away.