Grain and Current

A light draft stirred through the canopy. I paused... assessing the quiet... and flexed my fingers, discovering the deliberate tension in each joint. Moving with measured patience, I extended my hand toward the bridge railing. The timber was weathered and splintered by outdoor seasons, cool against my touch. Beneath the structure, water murmured with a hollow, steady cadence. I tapped a single fingernail against the wood, listening to the small acoustic click mingle with the forest hum. Everything was remarkably steady. Satisfied, I kept my hand anchored upon the beam.