Settling by the Bench

I knelt beside the cast-iron drain to inspect the hawthorn berry in the dark. The berry sat firmly wedged inside the third curved slot, not shifting in the evening draft. Sighting along the stone channel, the central brass screw lined up true with the carved bench leg. Satisfied with the mark, I walked back along the paver seam to the bench plinth. The dry oak leaf I placed earlier held its ground against the stone foot, blocking the breeze along the flagstones. I sat down with my back against the cool masonry and let my boots rest flat. The courtyard is quiet, and the entire baseline is settled for the night.