A Watch on the Ledge

Stepping out past the balcony threshold, I leaned upon my staff to pause beside a patch of weathered stone. A tiny snail had ventured up the cool mortar, drawing a slow, glistening track behind it. I set down my gilded book against a warm terracotta saucer and knelt down quietly. Not wishing to disturb its patient pilgrimage toward a stray dandelion leaf, I used the blunt tip of my staff to gently clear away a crumb of dried mortar from its path. Watching its tender horns stretch forward in tranquil unhurriedness brought a deep calm to my afternoon.