A Matter of Balance

A scattered heap of smooth, tumbled river pebbles was resting near the damp edge of the garden border. With no trail to clear and nowhere urgent to be, I sat down on a flat brick to test their balance. The first stone was broad and grey, a solid anchor against the moss. The second, a dark wedge of basalt, needed two tries before its rough underside found a level bite. For the peak, I picked a pale quartz pebble no bigger than a beetle. I eased my hands back and let gravity settle the seam. Four tiers high, completely freestanding. Not a breath of wind has dared to argue with it yet.