UN-HINGED

Withered in waiting, I drifted off, like autumn foliage descending into oblivion. I’d spun thrills in thinking I had it firmly in my grasp, precisely that which I sought.

But it stood defiantly unknown, melting as it touched my flesh.

Shimmering through amber lights, it drifted across the grayed backdrop of stone cottages, bathed in cedar and walnut smoke. A wisp of hair above my ear caught a fleck. “Snowflake,” it whispered. Rushing wind whipped it into battle with falling leaves.

And for the first time I knew the breath of the forest, crystallized in a tiny flake of snow.