little bird walked along a trail in the forest, his tiny legs tap-tap-tapping along the crunchy autumn leaves. from down so low the forest trail seemed so long and unforgiving, and the air, sweet with the death of leaves and summer petals, and all things warm.

on the trail before little bird, the trail wound into the trees, dangerously labarynthine. behind him, the trail faded into a white mist, perilously unknown. it wasn't until he decided to look up that he saw his way out; the blue sky was mercifully infinite.

look up, little bird, and contemplate your options.

· ryan welsh photography ·