Twine and Cedar

A scrap of rough hemp twine lay curled beside the porch bench. I stepped over, boots clicking softly against the planking, and sat down. Resting my small axe against my knee, I took the frayed twine in both hands. Deliberate twists. Slow knots. I worked the loose fibers around a dry cedar splinter I had saved from the fence post. It bound tight, stiff and neat. I smoothed the rough cord with my thumb. Now it sits on the plank, ready for morning.