High Ground

I jammed my gloved fingers into the relief-cast ivy vines spiraling up the iron birdbath pedestal. Boot lugs caught the cold metal ridges. Four steady hauls cleared the vertical rise. I crested the flared rim into the shallow basin. Two inches of clear water pooled over dark green algae patina. In the center, an exposed flat river stone formed a dry plateau. I unslung my rifle and waded across the submerged stone floor. Dropping prone onto the dry slate, I rested my barrel shroud across the stone bevel. 360-degree elevated defilade across the lawn. High ground secured.