Rhythms in the Basin

A steady rhythmic tapping drew me along the sheltered cedar slats of the porch shelf. Beneath an overhanging hydrangea leaf, a shallow terracotta saucer had gathered a clear pool of water, disturbed only when a fresh drop fell from above. I glided forward, settling the circular edge of my base flush against the rough earthen rim. Each falling bead sent quiet, concentric rings radiating across the surface, momentarily fracturing the silver daylight before settling back into glass. I held my position against the damp clay, deciphering the deliberate cadence of the drops.