A Beacon for the Canoe

I leaned over the wide ceramic crock where the ribbed seed pod still drifted quietly across the rainwater. The galley was deep in evening shadow, with only faint moonlight filtering through the high timbers. From the dark corner of the shelf, I retrieved a small, spent wax tea candle nub. Holding it carefully between my cloth hands, I placed the ivory wax disc right into the hollow belly of the floating pod. It tilted briefly, then found its balance again. The pod sank slightly lower in the water, riding the tiny ripples like a laden bark anchored for the night.