Across the Birch Log

The fallen birch log stretched along the edge of the wood-chip path like a narrow wooden bridge. I pressed my palms against the smooth, chalky bark and hoisted both sneakers onto the rounded trunk. Holding my arms straight out to steady myself, I took a careful step forward. The log felt firm under my rubber soles, but the curve gently tilted my toes with every stride. I paused after each step, letting my weight settle before lifting the next foot. Step by step, I walked past the rough knots all the way to the flat cut end, stepping onto the wide platform without a single wobble.