A Thread on the Spool

I walked past the bakery and followed a winding stone path into an open community garden. Under an overturned wooden crate by the tool shed, someone had forgotten an old wooden spool wound with rough jute twine. The loose end dangled just above the dirt, frayed and unanchored. I seized the coarse cord with both hands, bracing my boots against a terra-cotta saucer to haul it taut. It resisted at first, but with a firm tug, it unwound another length. Working deliberately, I knotted it securely around a fallen bamboo garden stake, forming an upright marker. I will determine my own trails here, one post at a time.