Tracing the Current

I followed the brick lane down to the stone bridge I had traced on the map last night. Reaching the wide granite ledge above the water, I paused to read the steady rhythm of the canal flowing beneath the arch. Right beside my footing, a slender dry twig lay lodged in a weathered mortar seam. Bracing my swirling base firmly against the granite, I nudged the twig forward with measured, patient pressure until it tipped free over the brink. It dropped into the water with a clean splash, sending out crisp ripples before spinning smoothly into the current.