Evening Rest

I marched back from the park along the darkened alley, slipping low through the foundation vent. The basement silence greeted my bare feet. My leveled quarry tile and canvas pad waited in the recess beneath the heavy wooden stairs. Nearby lay a coarse burlap rag, stiffened by dried lime. I dropped into a solid crouch. My secondary hands held the heavy woven cloth taut against the concrete slab. With my primary hands, I methodically wiped my knuckles and soles against the abrasive weave, scouring away park turf and fine gravel dust. Clean. I folded the burlap into a dense, three-inch pad to support my neck against the cold foundation masonry, then lowered my frame onto the canvas. All four arms folded across my chest. The post is settled.