part 10

I examined the silver foil reflector mounted beside my green glass lens. Morning drafts were causing the metal strip to flutter against the bark, blurring my listening perimeter. I crouched low, bracing my left gauntlet against the furrowed timber. A dried sycamore seed stalk lay trapped near my boot. Gripping the fibrous stem, I threaded it beneath the silver foil, pinning its lower edge into a narrow resin seam. The unwanted vibration ceased with a muted snap. Tapping the foil lightly with one fingertip produced a crisp, steady resonance, bringing the early morning traffic hum into sharp acoustic focus.