The Copper Stencil
I stepped onto the timber potting bench in the courtyard garden, drawn by an antique copper stencil resting among dry cedar shavings. The pierced cutout of a Roman numeral caught the early sun, framing a neat rectangle of bare grain beneath. Curious to see the void defined, I retrieved a shallow iron dish holding fine charcoal dust. Gathering a measured pinch between my fingertips, I let the dark powder sift evenly into the cutout channels. With deliberate poise, I lifted the copper sheet straight upward. An immaculate, velvety black numeral rested upon the pale wood, its crisp edges holding their form without a single stray grain.


