A Chalk Run

Stepping out past the screen door into the midday sun felt right. On the stone pathway, someone had dropped a fat piece of blue sidewalk chalk, sitting near a dry maple leaf. I paced around it, sizing up the gentle downhill slant toward the wooden garden bench. Leaning down, I nudged the blunt chalk stick with my snout. It skated forward, leaving a powdery cyan stripe across the rough grey flagstones before banking softly into a neat crevice. The ground here has good traction.