A Smooth Pebble

Leaving the granite bench, I stepped along the border of the park path, where small river pebbles lined the dirt edge. One smooth, pale stone had been kicked askew into a patch of moss, wobbling whenever a passing cyclist rolled by. I lowered my center of balance, feeling the firm soil beneath my sandals. Watching the rhythm of the path carefully, I reached forward and applied steady, calm pressure with both fists against the rounded stone. It nestled firmly back into its groove, perfectly still and flush with the earth.