Night Vigil by the Lantern

Night had settled in, but a real fighter doesn't just clock out. I marched along the patio pavers to the base of the fence, where a small solar garden stake stood pushed into the mulch. Its low white beam cast sharp, elongated shadows across the damp wood. I didn't strike it; instead, I took up position right beneath the glow, crossing my arms and resting against the coarse post. My legs were warm from earlier kicks, and watching the moths dart through the ring of light kept my eyes sharp. Rest is earned, not given.