“The fog does not hide the truth, it prepares us to see it.”
A veil across the water,
a breath between the ripples,
the cove keeps what is stirring,
while silence slowly hides.
Not in absence, but a waiting,
not gone but not yet near,
the fog breathes out its secret,
then pulls it back with intention.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
By tomorrow, the breath of the fog will not be enough, movement will rise.
“Truth hides in plain sight, waiting for the courage of someone willing to see.”
Fog draped itself over the cove as if the lake had pulled a veil across its face. The silence was steady, but within it was a stirring, as though something was speaking, but unseen, it was a feeling heard within every cell, not something passive, it was bold . The air carried a weight, not of a storm yet, but of a storm preparing to unravel what was.
Someone or something lingered at the far edge of the dock, still, blurred, neither coming forward nor retreating. It was not the figure itself that unsettled the morning, but the waiting, the sense that what was hidden in the fog was already shaping the next turn.
October carries a different weight each year. A month of more quiet that is never still, a month where memory presses close and reflection reaches deeper than other seasons can even dare. What stirred unseen was not gone, it never was. It was only waiting for the veil to lift.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the fog will shift, and with it, the shape of what has always been there will be seen.
“Fall teaches us that letting go is not the fall, but the space for something unseen to begin.”
This week unfolded like a painting of new tones, branches cracking, geese lifting into the fog, chickadees daring to trust the hand awaiting with wonder. Silence, though not empty, was alive, a shifting presence carrying both warning and wonder.
The cove reminded us that even in stillness, transformation is never far. Leaves fall, trees splinter, shadows stretch, but in the letting go, something is always preparing to begin again.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Next week, the fog will arrive, and with it, shapes that will not stay hidden. What will you see in the fog?
“October speaks both in celebration and reflection.”
Candles burn where silence stays,
the cove folds into shorter days.
Wings cut air in sudden flight,
the lake reflects both morning and night.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Reflection expresses and silence presses. October’s voice will close this week, yet it will not end, only turn the page.
“Every step taken in uncertainty teaches the body how to listen.”
The path curled along the lake’s edge, shadowed by trees that leaned too close. Each breeze seemed to carry a question.
Which one will fall next?
Yet along that unease came another sound, soft, delicate, a flutter that carried no threat. Chickadees darted through the air, their tiny wings quick as whispers. One landed nearby, black cap gleaming, eyes alert yet curious. It had learned the rhythm of hands, the offering of nuts, the trust of presence.
The unease of walking beneath breaking branches met the wonder of a bird that dared to come close enough to touch. Nature carried both at once, fear and comfort, uncertainty and grace. And in that balance, the path continued.
There is no promise of what is next, only the awarness that what is next, is coming.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the path will blur, what waits at its end may not be seen until the fog reveals it.
“Even silence has a breaking point.”
The forest doesn’t hold its breath,
it lives within them,
it sends a hush before the Fall,
as geese cut through the sky.
The silence cracks wide open,
and stillness tells it all,
branches bow then splinter,
yet roots refuse to fall.
The lake reflects the fracture,
as ripples circle wide,
shadows stretch their fingers,
with nowhere left to hide.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Truth doesnt stay down, it seeks the surface to be found. By tomorrow, the cracks will spread, revealing more than silence can contain.
“One crack in the silence can change the rhythm of everything.”
The forest did not fall all at once. It whispered first, dry branches rattling like bones against each other, before a single splinter cut through the air. The pause between splinter and collapse was long enough to hold an entire world of wonder, what direction, what cost, what unknown was about to unfold.
When the fall came, it thundered against the earth, stirring the geese from the shoreline. Their wings beat heavy against the fog as if carrying a message, move, shift, find new ground before the next branch decides.
Even the lake absorbed the sound, sending rings of movement outward, carrying the echo into places unseen. It was not destruction. It was instruction. A reminder that endings are also beginnings, and that the weight of silence is never empty, it is waiting for its next note.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the echo will return in another form, one carried on wings.
“Stillness carries echoes louder than any storm.”
Branches bow then break unseen,
a gust decides what might have been.
Shadows move where no one stands,
truth rests quiet in shifting lands.
Water shares its reflection all around,
and time is nowhere to be found.
Perception leads the way while emotions
dance and sway.
Wonder is everywhere within reach,
and wings leave fragments guiding peace.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
By tomorrow, the stillness will no longer wait—it will press closer.
“Even in the stillness, the storm learns to whisper its secrets through the trees.
The cove held its breath, a canvas washed in muted tones of gray and gold. Every ripple on the lake mirrored the sky’s hesitation, as if water and air had made a silent pact not to disturb what was shifting beneath.
Then came the sound, sharp, brittle, alive. The crack of wood surrendering after months of summer dryness. A tree gave way, carving its own path with no regard for what it might strike. The silence before and after was as loud as the fall itself.
Somewhere between the rush of the wind and the echo of impact, time stretched thin. It was no longer about a tree, or even the danger of where it landed. It was about the reminder that nothing stands forever untouched. Even what feels steady can be remade in a single breath of change.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, silence will shift again, not by breaking, but by carrying a voice that does not belong to the wind.
Where you see smoke, is only a warning , where you see fire holds the answers.
Smoke doesn’t rise without reason.
It clings,
and crawls along the edges of the air,
and with every breath a warning.
You can pretend it isn’t there,
but your lungs will remind you.
You can deny the fire,
but your eyes will sting with its presence.
Smoke is never innocent.
It is memory of something burning,
or the promise that it soon will.
Sometimes what smolders is anger.
Sometimes sadness,
Sometimes it’s the deception,
that was forced too long into silence,
finally breaking into sparks.
And when it clears,
all that’s left is the trace of
the ashes that say:
you will never unknow this.
There is where the work begins.
-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Is smoke a warning, or a lure? Perhaps the fire it hides has only just begun to burn.
SONSHINE FOR YOU 