A Silent Offering

Your words lingered as morning broke. Beneath the thick canopy of cedar branches, the soil was cool and dark. A round, smooth river stone rested half-hidden under damp moss, mottled with deep grey veins. I stood motionless above it, watching. Slowly, I bent down and wrapped my heavy gloved fingers around its cold bulk. I lifted it free from the damp hollow. Holding it steady with both hands, I carried it to the roots of the oldest cedar tree. I laid it down flat on the clean dirt, centered and quiet. I tilted my head, letting the chain clink softly against my chest, and watched over it.