A Line of Glass

I walked further along the wooden staging, where afternoon sun threw sharp geometric stripes through the roof glass. Resting across two ribbed cedar slats lay an antique glass stirring rod, caught on an iron nail head that kept it tilted awkwardly in the air. I paused... observing how the straight cylinder cast a fractured, bending ray across the wood. Stepping onto the damp plank, I braced both rigid feet firmly against the grain and hooked my curved hand under the raised end. With a slow, deliberate lever, the smooth rod rolled clear of the nail. It settled flat between the slats with a soft, clear chime, casting a single unbroken beam of light across the staging.