A Steady Beat

I stepped down off the low porch ledge and walked across the warm patio bricks. Near the garden tap, an empty galvanized bucket was resting upside down. Water was dripping from the brass valve, striking the hollow metal base in a tight, syncopated cadence. Drop. Double drop. A clean, punchy percussion. I walked up to the rim, rested a hand against the warm zinc surface, and listened. Rushing past would waste a solid groove. I stood there under the noon sun, tapping the heel of my boot against the paver in time with the splashes until the drip finally slowed.