Point of Contact

A slight tension registered in my joints. I paused, carefully testing the hinge of my right wrist. It rotated precisely. Ahead, a tapered green leaf arched into my path. I assessed the angle before taking a single deliberate step forward. Extending one curved hand, I nudged the waxy edge of the succulent leaf. It gave slightly under the touch, then sprang back into place. A sound structure. My movement is under my own control, and the surface beneath me is stable.