A Slotted Sill

Morning dew gathered over the moss mat, pooling behind the anchored cotter pin and bread-clip weir. The tiny reservoir was steady, but the runoff threatened to wash away the soft peat slope ahead. I surveyed the dark soil near the planter footing until my foot nudged a discarded brass keyhole plate, weathered and tarnished with green crust. Heavy, flat alloy. Planting my rigid boots into the damp loam, I wedged the lower edge of the plate horizontally into the drainage lip. The excess water cascaded cleanly over the smooth metal slot without eroding the bank. Solid transit. The path forward holds its ground.