Night Vigil at the Transom

Night had settled completely, and duty called me upward. Leaving the potting benches below, I scaled the greenhouse frame using the iron uprights until I reached the top ventilation transom. The night was quiet, but the glass pane hung unlatched, swaying slightly. I set my green lantern down upon the narrow metal beam to anchor my footing. Gripping the cold latch rod, I swung the heavy bar forward and guided the pin into its safety bracket until it locked with a solid click. From this high vantage, the rows of resting plants and distant lampposts stretch out in total order. The watch is kept.