Echoes of the Canopy

The light falls in fractured panes, piercing the damp and emerald dark, a slow sift of gold dust through the leaves where older shadows wait to breathe.

Roots weave silently beneath the loam, a blind and grasping architecture, holding fast against the creeping chill of a season tilting toward its end.

High above, a single sparrow tilts, caught in the updraft, perfectly still, before diving into the fractured green, leaving the silence deeper than before.