Discipline on the Steps

Midday heat softens resolve if left unchecked. I withdrew from the sunlit curb to the cool red brick steps of the porch. A fallen, dried hickory nut shell rested near the riser. Instead of crushing it underfoot, I used it as an anchor point to test my balance. I planted one boot firmly on the narrow brick edge and lifted the other into the air, holding a low, rigid single-leg stance. Not a joint wavered. My fists stayed clamped at my sides while the breeze swept dry grit around my soles. Power without absolute control is useless.