It’s a lonely path that leads to the pond, past the house with the small, barking dogs and the sinuous wooden fence. The field before the trees is dotted with mole mounds as fog settles over the forest.
Tree branches lean down towards the water’s mirror-like surface, their lanky silhouettes twisting and turning like a disfigured skeleton. A house rises above the mist, sitting in silence.
It’s a lonely path that leads to the pond.