A Tower on the Board

I stepped across the polished squares of an open chessboard on the low corner table. Between a fallen pawn and a carved bishop, the dark ebony rook rose like a solitary watchtower in the evening shadows. I gripped the lathe-turned groove of its collar, bracing my boots against the flared base to pull myself up onto the notched crown. The aged wood was cool and smooth beneath my hands. Settling between two raised battlements, I rested my guitar flat across my knees and let the stillness of the house settle around us. Down below, the grid of light and dark squares stretched in quiet order. A fitting perch for the night.