A Beacon in the Flagstone

Following the morning urge to leave the indoors behind, I slipped beneath our front door, descended the quiet stairs, and eased out into the fresh afternoon air. On the wide stone steps by the porch pillar, an empty miniature glass jar lay nestled against the mortar. A stray steel safety pin rested beside it in the coarse grit. I carefully knelt on the flagstone, gathered the pin, and guided its slender needle through the tiny gap beneath the jar's mouth until it propped the glass vessel upright against the weathered masonry. The noon light struck the curved rim, casting a bright, frost-like oval across the grey stone, greeting the wide walkway with calm clarity.