The frost had come overnight, cloaking the reeds in crystalline armor. By morning, the sun struck the frozen stalks at just the right angle, turning the world into a shimmering mosaic. Tiny rainbows blinked in and out of existence, as if the universe were winking—a secret shared between light and water.

She walked slowly, her boots crunching on the frosted ground. The air was sharp, slicing through her lungs with each breath, but she welcomed it. The cold felt honest. It didn’t pretend to be anything other than what it was.

The rainbows caught her attention, pulling her out of her thoughts. Each flicker felt deliberate, alive. She paused, her breath hanging in the air, and watched. The colors moved like whispers—here, then gone. No pattern. No logic. Just being.

It wasn’t the kind of beauty that demanded attention. It didn’t scream or shout. It simply existed, waiting for someone to notice. And as she stood there, she realized: it wasn’t just the frost catching the light. It was the light catching her.

The moment stretched, time losing its edges. She felt her chest rise and fall, her pulse slowing to match the rhythm of the world around her. The cold on her skin, the warmth of the sun, the weight of the air—it all folded into one. She was no longer separate from the scene. She was the scene.

But the moment didn’t stay. The sun rose higher, and the frost began to melt. The rainbows faded, leaving only bare reeds and the memory of what had been.

She exhaled, her breath steady now. The world hadn’t changed, not really. Cars still roared in the distance. The hum of a city buzzed in her ears. But something inside her had shifted. She carried the light now, a tiny pulse in her chest, a quiet reminder: connection is always there, waiting.

It’s not about finding the extraordinary. It’s about noticing the ordinary, and seeing the extraordinary within it.

An Invitation

When was the last time you stood still long enough to feel the world? What would happen if you listened to the quiet moments and let them ripple through you?

By Emrys Solis