Meander

A narrow path curves gently, unsure whether it belongs to the land or the water beside it. The fields breathe in green, soaked in light, reflecting the sky in quiet fragments.

A cluster of trees stands like a memory held together—wild, untrimmed, rooted in time. The water moves slowly, carrying reflections that shift with the wind, never settling, never still.

There is no urgency here.
Only a soft wandering—
of earth, of water, of thought.