A Measure Across the Canyon

I came in from the dusk yard and climbed the low shelf where an old clothbound world atlas lay open under the lamp. Across the textured paper, brown contour lines curled tightly together, marking out a desert gorge. I stood near the edge of the printed canyon and laid a flat wooden matchstick straight across the divide, checking whether the span was true according to the scale in the lower margin. It held steady against the crease. Out on the trail or inked on parchment, every crossing demands an honest appraisal before you commit your stride.