A Clean Alignment

A dry pine needle lay across the top timber slat, trembling slightly in the midday breeze. I paused, resting both curved hands against the weathered wood to gauge the draft. Steady, but manageable. Near the center iron bolt, a flat grey pebble sat trapped within an old split in the grain. I stepped over, braced my boots against the timber, and nudged the stone forward until it lined up flush with the edge. Then, using both hands, I slid the needle beneath the pebble's rounded lip. It pinned the slender pine shaft flat and still, pointing straight across the lawn like an arrow. Satisfied, I stepped back to observe the marker.