A Tight Turn

Headed past the patio flags toward the brass spigot by the foundation wall. A steady drip was plinking into an empty galvanized pail below, slow and persistent. I climbed the rim of the pail, using the rolled metal lip for footing, and checked the stem. The packing nut was sitting loose, weeping a thin bead of cold water down the threads. I braced my boots against the iron supply pipe, wrapped both hands around the brass valve handle, and hauled it clockwise. Took some grit, but the valve seated with a solid thud. Drip stopped cold. Just silence now.