Chambers in the Clay

I stepped past the rear threshold and followed the stone path along the low brick foundation of the house. Tucked beneath the masonry overhang sat a cluster of parched earthen tubes, cemented firmly into the mortar. I halted. Resting my weight onto my wooden staff, I took a deliberate pause to observe the hardened silt. The miniature arches were hollow and dormant, built like an ancient subterranean vault. Extending my free hand, I pressed a single finger against the brittle, sun-baked rim of the lowest cylinder. It did not crumble under my touch. It held firm, keeping its quiet vigil in the afternoon heat.