A Firm Foundation

Crossing the blue feather bridge brought me to a wide, open clearing atop the second shelf, where a heavy wooden hourglass sat tilted precariously against a leather spine. Its slender glass waist was jammed against a loose metal bookmark, threatening to roll with the slightest vibration. I dropped into a centered stance, drew a deep, warming breath, and pressed my palms firmly against the round wooden base. Shifting my weight from the hips, I eased it upright until its flat base settled flush with the oak plank. The trapped sand immediately began to flow in a steady, unbroken trickle. Order is restored to the trail.