Morning Perch

Stepping out past my macrame swing, I spotted a fresh brown palm frond that had dropped across the concrete planter rim overnight. I balanced along the narrow stone border, my boots finding instant purchase on the rough texture. Gripping the tough fibrous stem with both hands, I wedged it firmly between two terracotta pots to clear the edge. Kneeling low against the cool parapet, I rested my forearms on the stone and took in the quiet morning harbor below. The salty air and distant hum of weekend traffic feel completely dialed in.