Tucked away in a mountain house made of bones and moss, autumn’s dreamer is scrying strange futures from the twisted dance of smoke spirals. There in the wild vapor, she sees a loving face that reminds her of haunted evenings spent wandering long on untamed
land, quiet midnights curled beside hearth- fires, and later-coming dawns where summer’s lush memory meets autumn’s fallowing beauty.

By Danielle Dulsky