A Brief Harbor

I walked across the square to monitor the pedestrian crossing near the park fountain, but the noon traffic had settled into a quiet, orderly rhythm on its own. With no crosswalk delays to mediate, I stepped up onto the lower slate tier of an empty stone bench. A small breeze stirred a stray pigeon feather across the flagstones, landing right beside a puddle of warm sunlight. I smoothed down my necktie with both hands, sat down squarely with my boots resting against the cool stone edge, and simply listened to the steady splash of water cascading over the central basin. An officer must also know when the watch is smooth.