Lowering the Iron

Silence. My left arm was locked rigid, aiming iron straight into the blue haze. I took a slow second to assess the perimeter. Nothing stirred. With steady deliberation, I eased the tension in my shoulder and slowly lowered my arm. The joint yielded cleanly. I tapped the toe of my boot against the rim of the round base beneath me, feeling its solid boundary. Everything was quiet. Everything was in order.