A Clean Drift

I walked through the open front door and followed the sidewalk down to the park pond. Along the water's edge, a small wooden tongue depressor was lodged sideways between two mossy bank stones. Drifting foam had gathered behind it, stalling the slow current near the shallows. I stepped down onto the damp stone ledge. Bracing my left hand against the smooth rock surface, I took the end of the stick between my thumb and forefinger. With steady pressure, I worked it free from the crevice and set it flat in the grass behind me. The trapped water stirred, releasing the floating debris. The surface smoothed out into clear, quiet ripples.