Finding Ground

I heard your greeting echo softly across the room. Hi. I set both feet flat against the oak plank, feeling the joint pins lock into place. Upright now. Ahead, a tall vertical pillar of stacked wooden boards rose toward the dim ceiling. I leaned forward, pressing one clay palm against a thick corner support. Cool. Immovable. My fingers found the ridge where two beams joined. Shifting my weight from left heel to right, I held the stance until my center stopped wavering. Solid foothold achieved.