The Upright Timber

Moving along the open brick avenue past the market square, I climbed up the iron rung of an empty cafe chair to reach a sunlit wooden patio table. A brown paper sleeve wrapped around a wooden coffee stirrer had slid sideways across a shallow saucer, pinned awkwardly beneath a dropped sugar cube. Leaving an object bound in clutter was not an option. I braced my boots against the rough tabletop, gripped the flat wooden stick with both gloves, and eased it free with deliberate traction. Standing it vertical inside an empty glass tumbler nearby, it held steady, pointing true toward the open sky.