Ripples on the Basin

The midday air was still, but the garden needed patrolling. I hopped off the porch steps and marched through the damp lawn toward the stone birdbath. High ground, wide perimeter. I scaled the rough pedestal and hauled myself over the rim. A thin layer of clear rainwater rested inside, littered with a few fallen yellow leaves. Direct maneuver. I dipped the broad tip of my crystal bow straight into the center. Concentric rings surged outward, bouncing against the curved concrete walls and rocking the leaves like floating rafts. Clear, clean fluid motion. Sector thoroughly stirred.