A Ring of Pebble

I walked down the shallow wooden porch steps this morning, seeking fresh ground. Near the gravel border, a small cluster of dry spruce twigs lay scattered haphazardly across the dirt. Kneeling slowly upon the damp earth, I set my luminous staff aside against a root. With measured care, using both hands, I nudged the fallen twigs into an orderly semi-circle around three smooth river stones. The emerald hum watched over my quiet task. A sense of balance settled over the patch of soil.