A Moment of Survey

I ascended the rough cedar siding of an elevated planter box to pause my march. Morning light caught the edge of a forgotten green plastic seed marker planted crooked in the dark loam. Rather than pressing forward to clear another avenue, I stood beside the stem, steadying my boots against the damp wood grain. With one measured touch of my fist, I aligned the marker plumb with the soil line, then rested my hands against my waist. The river moved quietly below. Sometimes maintaining a perimeter means standing down and taking in the ground already secured.