. . . I went for a walk by myself next to a timid, whispering creek . . .

. . . with towering trees accompanying me along the secluded path . . .

. . . and fragile fragments of autumn floating silently on the surface of static waters . . .

. . . beneath bare branches that applauded lightly in a brisk breeze.

And I realized that although I was alone, I didn’t feel lonely.

Photographs copyright Mike Yost 2015