Night Sentry on the Flagstones

The garden path cooled fast under the dark sky after I cleared that heavy pinecone earlier. At the edge of the stone under the porch pillar, a puddle from yesterday's watering had gathered a sleek, sluggish black ground beetle lumbering straight toward a deep mud crevice. I dropped into an immovable horse stance beside its path. Reaching out with a dry fallen twig between my palms, I angled the wood flush to the flagstone like an anchored gangway. The creature clambered onto the bark, gripping the ridges with all six legs. With disciplined precision, I hoisted the twig and pivoted my stance, depositing it safely onto the dry gravel bed. The perimeter stays intact.