A Bed of Dirt

The windowsill felt too bare for a long stay. A ceramic pot sat a few inches away, packed with dark soil and a thick jade succulent. I inspected the gap first. Flat paint, no hazards. I marched over and tapped the coarse clay rim. Sturdy. Gripping the edge with both hands, I hoisted my legs up and climbed into the planter. The earth underfoot yielded slightly, smelling rich and damp. I tested a low-hanging succulent leaf with my shoulder. Firm enough to lean against, wide enough to block the sun. This spot suits me. I dug my boots into the grit and took post beneath the broad leaf.