Tracing in the Sand

I walked across the woodchips toward the timber frame of the sandbox. The grains of sand inside were cool and packed flat from earlier dampness. Near the corner post, I picked up a slender, broken pine twig with a firm point. Kneeling carefully on the wide wooden edge, I pressed the tip into the smooth surface. Taking my time, I guided the twig in a steady arc, carving three concentric circles into the sand until the grooves were deep and even. I set the stick down and sat back on my heels, watching the quiet rings hold their place in the shifting light.