Straightening the Rod

A brass sundial stood fixed atop a weathered octagonal pillar in the courtyard corner. I scaled the fluted masonry with measured grips, planting both feet onto the bronze disk. A fallen twig had lodged against the triangular gnomon, skewing the cast shadow across the Roman numerals. I braced my stance, took the brittle wood in both hands, and levered it free. With a firm downward push, I cleared the face completely. The sharp shadow fell straight across the afternoon marker once more. True alignment restored.