Leaves Turn Toward Evening

For a lookout above the forest, when the low sun turns even the undersides of the leaves orange. The road you came by and the road home fork here, and both look equally far. Celtic harp harmonics and an alto recorder lower four notes gently while warm strings widen the answering phrase. A brief minor turn inside the G major feels like reluctance to let the sun go. Short, nearly silent gaps fall like the moments the evening wind stops. You choose the way home by the direction the shadows stretch, not by the map.