Rhythm on the Coil

The thick loops of a weathered mooring hawser formed a broad spiral right across the damp timber planks. Easing my right shoe upward, I set my chunky sole onto the stiff, ridged braid. The coarse fibers gave a tiny, satisfying creak beneath my weight. Deliberately, I brought my left foot up to join it, balancing steady atop the concentric rings of rope. Below the quay, dark canal water lapped against the pilings with a slow, measured slosh, followed by the low, mellow horn of a passing harbor boat. I tilted my tall peak in time with the gentle rhythm, grounded on the woven ridges.