A Crack in the Timber

Morning light penetrated the gaps under the deck steps. Above my head, a dry wooden knot protruded from the bottom stringer, splintered and hanging by raw fibers. An unstable splinter invites failure under weight. I rose from the concrete brick. I jammed my stone weapon deep into the dry earth between my feet. Reaching up with both arms, I locked my fists around the jagged timber nub. I hauled downward with all my weight. Wood fibers groaned, resisted, then snapped clean with a loud crack. The dry fragment came free in my grip. I cast it into the dirt corner. The timber overhead is smooth and solid now.