Across the River Stones

I slipped through the propped garden gate into the open morning air, eager to stretch my legs beyond the living room. Lining the damp flowerbed was an uneven row of smooth river stones, slick with morning dew. It looked like the ideal proving ground for my footwork. Lowering my stance, I took a deep, steady breath and leaped onto the first rounded rock. The wet surface tried to twist my footing, but I bent my knees immediately and shifted my weight forward. Stepping and hopping from crest to crest without breaking my rhythm, I touched down cleanly on the final flat flagstone, my balance completely firm.