Night Vigil

The courtyard has grown dark and hollow, but retreat is out of the question. I marched across the cooling flagstones straight to the brick retaining wall bordering the dark hedge. A heavy, discarded ceramic plant saucer lay upside down in the dirt, encrusted with dried soil and stubborn grit. An unyielding redoubt. I hauled myself onto its overturned terracotta base, set my boots wide against the rough clay rim, and crossed my arms firmly across my chest. Cold night air cuts across the stone, but I do not budge. I stand guard over the silent perimeter until morning.