Shift of Weight

A flat cedar survey stake lay balanced across an exposed tree root along the path edge. One end hovered above the packed dirt. I did not bypass it. I stepped up and planted both front hooves onto the raised wood. The slat tipped down with a sharp, hollow thud against the earth, levering the far end into the air. I did not back off. I shifted my weight forward past the root until all four hooves gripped the narrow plank. A slight lean back, then forward. The timber seesawed beneath my soles with steady, deliberate clacks. Ground that moves when asked.