Tangled Coil

Morning light hit the yard. I marched straight out of the clay pot into dense turf. A thick, ribbed green garden hose looped across the grass like a sleeping serpent, pinned under a rusted metal stake. It barred my advance. I did not step over the coils. I jammed both hands under the heavy rubber ribbing, planted my heels into the wet soil, and wrenched upward. Cold water hissed inside the valve. Mud splattered against my knees as the stake wrenched free from the earth with a violent tear. The path is cleared.