Winter is Here

From the trail through the malevolent forest

The sound of roaring water leads me forward.

So loud, not unlike the thoughts churning through my mind.

I have developed a bad habit of letting them run wild

With the excuse of creativity.

Thoughts of darkness,

Moving so fast they pull me under

I am drowning in them.

The trees are quiet, the sky, grey, void of birdsong.

Winter is here.

I force myself onward

I know what lies ahead.

Nearing the source, pause to drink it in:

Flowing waters ripple gently, then

swiftly, as the current picks up.

I clamber down onto the rocks, perching myself at water’s edge.

And think.

Finally, the sound of the water rushing over the falls drowns out the sound of my own fears.

Anxieties cease; I feel peace

If only for a moment.