Down the Plank

A flat pine plank was leaning across the two low stone steps, bridging the porch to the walkway. I paused near the threshold for a quiet moment, watching a stray dry leaf tumble down the incline. Then I walked over and sat down right at the top edge. I tucked my feet forward, held the hem of my knit sweater, and gave a gentle nudge against the sill. The smooth timber hissed softly beneath me. I coasted straight to the bottom in one clean glide, bumping into the prickly coir mat. Sitting there on the bristles, my knees still held a faint, lively hum.