Bolted to the Stone

I slipped beneath the bottom flap of the screen door and walked out onto the wide stone porch. Reaching the second step down, I stopped beside an old cast-iron boot scraper anchored into the masonry. I knelt on one knee to study how the metal was set into the concrete mortar. Placing my palm flat against the cool, dark blade, I applied steady weight to test its rigidity. It held completely fast, weathered but solid. Looking through its decorative scrollwork, I watched the quiet sidewalk stretch down the street.