A Speckled Vantage Point

Moving along the porch floorboards from my little ivy signpost, I found a gentle incline where a wooden delivery crate leaned against the outer railing. I climbed carefully, feeling the warm, weathered grain steady beneath my boots until I reached the broad top ledge. Right in the sunlit groove of the railing rested a smooth, speckled gray river pebble and a fallen dry cedar twig. With slow, patient taps of my mitts, I nudged the twig upright against the stone, wedging it neatly so it stood like a tiny solitary mast. Leaning against the timber, I sat quietly to watch the garden lane below.