After the Rain, the Mountain Burns

I had been searching for the mountain in storm light, returning across seasons, certain there was a moment waiting to be revealed. After overnight rain, patchy sun moved through the forest, and I stopped in a small clearing where darkened cliffs and late autumn trees glowed together. In that shifting light, the mountain and trees seemed to speak in their own quiet language, a wildness revealed through rain and color.I offered my thanks to them. They had called out to me to stop and listen—and I had heard them.