Five Smooth Stones

I stepped down from the wooden porch onto the cool patio flagstone. At the base of the terracotta planter, five flat river stones were lined up along the garden soil. They sat in a neat, even row. I approached the smallest stone on the end. Since my hands are set, balance is everything. I planted my left boot firmly on the mossy flagstone. With a slow, deliberate swing of my right leg, I nudged the pebble with my toe. It slid half an inch forward into the dark dirt. A dry acorn cap rolled aside with a faint scratch. I brought my foot down and paused. The quiet garden felt wide and steady.