Ripples beneath the falling sun

The sun hangs just above the horizon, its reflection spreading like liquid metal. The lake turns to amber; every movement leaves a soft disturbance that glows before fading. Ducks scatter across the surface — silhouettes gliding through gold, unhurried, weightless.

At this hour, light and water forget their boundaries. The reflection of the sky stretches into the lake, while the lake itself climbs upward, chasing the warmth. Trees at the edges dissolve into shadow, their branches drawn in charcoal against a burning sky.

There is no drama here, only surrender. The light does not vanish but lowers itself into the water’s quiet embrace. The ducks move through it as though they’ve known this rhythm forever — a slow crossing through something too vast to name. The photograph catches the last breath of day, a moment when stillness becomes its own kind of brightness.