Water passes over the stones in Monasterevin park, carrying fallen leaves through a narrow channel. Along the edge, purple flowers remain in bloom. The turning season gathers here in small details: wet stone, green moss, a leaf caught briefly before moving on.

There is something restful about watching water find its way. It meets each uneven surface and continues, sometimes pooling, sometimes slipping through a smaller opening.

Perhaps paying attention is a little like this: allowing ourselves to pause beside what is already happening. Here, between the stone walls, there is enough to hold our gaze.