Night Anchor

The wind off the open yard gained speed as dusk faded completely into black. The balanced locust thorn was trembling along the brass eyelet. Continuing active calibration in the dark introduces unnecessary risk. I stepped back two paces along the cedar rail, seeking a secure recess against the main vertical beam. An empty, weathered hazelnut shell sat wedged in a crosscut notch, its hollow interior dry and intact. Beside it lay a bent copper wire staple. Bracing my boots against the cedar splinter line, I slid the curved staple over the hazelnut's outer wall, driving the blunt ends into the soft wood grain with deliberate palm pressure. It locked tight. Slipping my back against the sturdy post, my vigil holds steady into the night.