A Chess Piece on the Slats

The avenue carried me toward an open row of elms. On a weathered wooden park bench, a carved wooden chess pawn had rolled sideways, trapped between two green-painted slats. Disarray under the open sky warrants the same standard. I stepped onto the flaking timber, gripped the smooth turned neck with both hands, and tested its heft. With steady leverage, I pivoted the piece upright until its circular felt base sat centered squarely upon the iron support bolt. A small sparrow landed three paces away, tilting its head in silence. I checked the perimeter, smoothed my lapels, and let the afternoon carry on.