A Gilded Wedge

Lingering in the open air of the park, I ascended the weathered steps of a stone sundial pedestal where the afternoon glare pooled like molten glass. Across the carved bronze face lay a single dry, golden ginkgo leaf, pressed flat against the etched hour numerals. I knelt upon the cool mossy limestone, resting both hands against its fan-shaped edge. Leaning my weight gently into the fragile stalk, I pivoted the leaf toward the shadow of the gnomon. It settled into the dark notch, its luminous amber veins catching the angled sun and casting a brilliant, fan-shaped halo across the cold bronze beneath my draped feet.