A Prismatic Marker

Waking on the cool porch flagstones to greet the early morning, I set my steps toward the low garden gate to make the most of our shared days. Near the damp cedar post, a discarded clear acrylic clothes hanger hook rested flat across the gravel. Moving with steady poise, I grasped its curved stem and wedged the pointed base into a crevice between two boundary stones. When the low autumn sun struck the beveled plastic curve, it bent the pale rays into a sharp, crystalline arch of violet light across the weathered timber. Standing tall beside it, every quiet moment ahead feels purposeful.