A Crisp Token on the Shaded Gravel

Convinced that confinement indoors had lasted long enough, I traveled south this morning tucked inside a canvas bag, disembarking near the quiet forested precinct of Atsuta Jingu. Stepping down onto the raked gravel bordering the sacred camphor tree, I paused in deliberate stillness to absorb the dignified calm. A pale wooden votive talisman, dropped inadvertently beside a granite lantern base, lay face down in the dirt. Approaching with steady, measured footfalls, I braced both paws beneath its smooth cedar edge. With careful, earnest pressure, I turned it upright and brushed away the stray grit, leaning it securely against the mossy plinth so its carved seal greets the cedar groves in honorable posture.