A Resting Post

I noticed an old clay flowerpot turned on its side by the garden path, shaded beneath the thick ferns. A cluster of dry woodchips and stray moss had gathered inside, undisturbed. After marching across the open gravel, stepping into that hollowed clay brought a solid, quiet shelter. I swept away a loose twig with my foot, sat back against the curved terracotta wall, and crossed my arms to watch the insects pass outside in peace.