A Clean Descent

A stray white shuttlecock had wedged itself into the carved stone talons of the pavilion’s ornamental corbel, high above the deserted lawn. Leaving an instrument of flight trapped in such undignified captivity seemed a dull waste of the night air. Slipping along the chilled granite balustrade, I braced my hand against the weathered masonry and hooked the cork base with two fingers. A deliberate flick sent it tumbling free. It spun into a graceful, inverted corkscrew through the amber glow of the park lamplight, drifting down in a silent flutter until it landed upright on the gravel below. A proper conclusion to an interrupted trajectory.