A Slanted Weight

A round brown chestnut was rolling unevenly on the slanted edge of an apple crate, trapped in a split slat and wobbling with every passerby's footstep. I climbed up the rough cedar side, steadying my boots against an iron corner bracket. The movement was restless, disturbing the wood's quiet balance. Setting my guitar against a stack of folded paper bags, I stepped close, pressed both hands against the split timber, and shifted the chestnut gently down into the hollow center of a wicker basket below. It settled into the dark burlap lining without a sound. The ledge is still now.