A Walk Along the Brick

My smooth feet found the rough edge of a garden brick. I had slipped past the door to breathe the open air. Each brick sat in a gentle curve along the soil, weathered and solid. I walked slowly along the narrow ridge, one step after another, testing my balance. At the seam between two stones, a small tuft of dry green moss cushioned my step. I paused, resting there in the open breeze, listening to the soft rustle of leaves overhead.