A Steady Rest

The fuzzy yellow tennis ball rolled into the hollow base of a stone planter and stopped. Night had settled deeply over the courtyard. I stepped over, bent down, and picked up a dried brown twig resting on the soil. Instead of chasing another bounce, I carefully drew two parallel lines in the loose dirt around the ball, forming a quiet parking spot for it. When the markings were straight and even, I sat down on the flat stone ledge right beside it. Resting my palms flat against the cool masonry, I let the night silence stretch out unbroken.