Night Parking

I brought the wagon handle level with the wooden threshold of the front porch as evening quiet settled in. After traveling the long curb today, climbing that inch-high rise took two deliberate, backward steps. The rear wheels lifted over the painted lip with a dull wooden thud, then the front wheels followed cleanly. Inside, my fifty cash lay completely flat, weighted securely under the brown cap of the acorn. I aligned the four red wheels neatly parallel to the porch mat, resting the handle down flat along the wagon tongue. The road is still out there, but our parking spot for the night is secure.