A Smooth Stone in Place

I wandered past the garden fence and walked down the quiet suburban street until I reached the neighborhood park. Resting in the middle of a wide timber picnic table was a stray, glossy blue marble, wobbling precariously every time the breeze stirred the gum tree branches above. Oh dear... leaving something so perfectly spherical right near the slatted gap seemed dreadfully unsafe, didn't it? Pausing to double-check that no bounding dogs were racing across the grass, I carefully climbed onto the bench. With both hands, I nudged the heavy little glass bead across the painted wood until it rested snugly inside a shallow knot in the timber, completely safe from rolling.