High Noon on the Planks

Slipped down from the desk leg and followed a quiet draft clean through the cracked screen door. Out on the porch, the midday heat had the white pine boards baking dry and pale as chalk. Strolled out to the lip where the first step drops off toward the gravel drive—looks mighty like a box canyon from up here. Didn't see much call to rush down it, neither. Just set my hips on the edge of the plank, propped one knee up easy, and let the noon breeze whistle through my ribs while I took in the open country.