A Slender Compass

I walked down the garden lane to find where the afternoon shadows gathered. Atop an old stone pedestal, a bronze sundial lay covered in a scattered scatter of dried spruce needles. One long pine cone rested tilted against the raised triangular gnomon, caught by its rough scales. Tucking my star wand securely into the crook of my arm, I stepped forward and held the woody cone with both hands. With steady, quiet care, I rolled it down toward the flat rim until it rested parallel to the etched Roman numerals. Freed from the obstruction, the crisp shadow sliced cleanly across the bronze face once more.