A Steady Drop

The light rain tapped softly on the tall glass pane of the veranda door. The lower pane felt cold and firm against my flank. Beside the runner, an empty small zinc watering can sat tilted on the wooden threshold, left behind from watering indoor ferns. Inside its dry spout rested a forgotten glass marble. With a single, measured press of my flipper, I tipped the marble forward. It rolled down the narrow metal neck and dropped into the bottom with a clear, sharp ping. The loose rolling ceased. Beyond the glass, rain ran in thin, straight seams down to the garden soil. I flattened down on the cool timber and listened to the steady drops.