The pelican seems to be hosting a meeting for the trees that forgot to RSVP.

The pelican drifted effortlessly across the water’s surface, its white plumage and black-tipped wings contrasting sharply with the muted tones of the submerged forest. The stillness was almost theatrical—a scene sculpted by time and weather. The dead trees stood like forgotten monuments, their gnarled branches pointing skyward as if in protest or prayer. I watched as the bird paused near one of these skeletal figures, its reflection rippling faintly in the lake. There was something both solemn and whimsical about this tableau—a quiet reminder that even in decay, there is life and purpose. The air carried a faint chill now, but it only seemed to amplify the clarity of this moment.